


The Witch of Bayou Chene

by miss_grey



Series: What We Do In The Dark [55]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Coming Out, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Sexy Times, Witchcraft, Witches, discussions of trauma, look gene's sexy as hell even when he's not trying to be, there's nothing i can do about it, witch gene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_grey/pseuds/miss_grey
Summary: After the show down with the demons, Gene and Babe return to life in the bayou.A series of snapshots into their lives.
Relationships: Babe Heffron/Eugene Roe, Bill Guarnere & Babe Heffron
Series: What We Do In The Dark [55]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1366063
Comments: 83
Kudos: 124





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's been forever since I've updated, but I'm finally back. So here, have a little bit of Gene ;)

Dusk was settling over the bayou, casting the trees into shadow, backlit by a purple, orange, and red sky. Fireflies flickered in and out of existence. Cicadas buzzed in the dark depths of the swamp. The air was thick, hot, humid, and it smelled of life, death, and everything in between, rich and full. Edward hummed at the wheel, tapping a staccato beat against it as they made their way down the cracked, winding road closer and closer to Wisteria Creek, closer to home. Gene gazed out the passenger window, taking in the comforting sights of the trees, the vines, the flowers at the side of the road, the homes in the distance. For a while, he’d feared that he’d never make it back here. He’d feared that he’d die in a hospital in Philly, or a warehouse in Brooklyn and that Renee would simply fade away without him, that the people would forget him, that the swamp would swallow up every trace of him. But he was back now. Back.

At the edge of the parish, Gene shuddered as the dormant threads of the ward took hold of him, wrapped around his heart, his mind, his throat, his veins, and renewed themselves. Life and power flooded into them and for a moment, Gene could see them flare to life, blindingly bright, before they settled back into the earth, strong again. Edward cast him a strange, but somehow knowing look at the shudder and reached over to lay his hand over Gene’s where it rested on Gene’s thigh. Gene breathed a sigh of relief and turned to give Edward a reassuring smile—the redhead smiled back at him and squeezed his hand. Gene stared down at it for a moment before he turned his so that Edward could slot his fingers through Gene’s, a perfect fit, like they’d been made for each other. Edward grinned a little bigger then focused his eyes on the road once more and continued his humming. Gene glanced again at their joined hands and smiled softly, his heart swelling with love at the sight of his own golden wedding ring, glinting in the light of the dying sun.

Everything was cast in shades of blue when they finally arrived at Gene’s home, but there was no way he could miss the strange construction that stood in front of the house, cast in long, shrouding shadows from the headlights. “What is it?” Edward asked, turning the key to kill the engine. 

“Don’t know.” Gene murmured before exiting the car, his eyes fixed on the thing between him and the house. He didn’t wait for Edward before he approached it, his eye catching the faint flicker of a dying candle, situated amid a jumbled pile of old wax, the remnants of others like it. 

“Gene?” Edward asked, sidling up next to him, his voice slightly anxious.

“I think….” Gene reached out, his fingers hesitant over the apparent offerings, “I think it’s an altar.” In fact, he _knew_ it was. A small, squat table had been erected in front of his home, cobbled together with bits of plywood and draped with a silky blue cloth. Atop the altar, the remains of candles, dozens of them, one atop another, like they had burned down one at a time, the fresh wax serving as a base for the others. On either side of the wax, mingling with it in parts, were trinkets. Crosses. Rosaries. Images of the saints and the Virgin. And notes. Rolled and folded sheets of paper, held down by stones and wax and gifts—bottles of beer, a tin of candies. 

“An altar?” Edward said, reaching for a note before Gene could stop him. Gene watched, curious, as Edward unfolded the note and read it in the gloom, his brows furrowing as he scanned the words. “Here,” he said, passing it to Gene as he picked up another. He read that one, too, then another, and another. Gene didn’t bother, content instead to simply watch the complex play of emotion across Edward’s face.

“Well?”

“They’re all for you,” Edward said, shadowy eyes fixing on Gene through the settling darkness. “They’re…prayers. Well-wishes. They missed you and prayed you were safe. They prayed you’d come back.”

Gene stared, at a complete loss for words. Candles upon candles, one lit each night. Notes and trinkets. For him. For…his safe return. “Well…I have.” Gene said, voice catching. Edward’s eyes softened and he stepped forward, wrapping Gene in his long, strong arms. He rested his head on Edward’s shoulder and just breathed for a moment, grateful for the man who held him, grateful for the good people of the parish who cared, whose prayers might have given him strength, might have helped him to make it back, grateful for the home that had been in his family for generations, grateful for the love and power that still dwelt here. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” Gene murmured.

“Me too,” Edward whispered against Gene’s hair.

Gene pulled away slowly and took Edward’s hand in his own, tugging him behind him as he rounded the altar and made his way up the steps to his home. They passed through layer upon layer of warding, and Gene wondered if Edward could feel them now, after everything. On the porch, Edward pulled Gene to a stop and leaned forward to kiss him, his lips soft, mouth warm. “I love you.” Edward whispered.

“I love you, too,” Gene promised. He wrapped his long, pale fingers around the doorknob and twisted, pushing the door open easily. He stepped across the threshold, pulling Edward in with him. “Welcome home.”


	2. Meeting the Neighbors

Babe had never seen Gene so nervous at the thought of human interaction. He knew the man was reserved and tended to keep to himself. He knew that the people of Bayou Chene had a strange relationship with their Doc—a mix of fear, respect, and gratitude. But he’d never imagined it was quite this bad, that Gene would be so nervous to step into the bar a few miles down the road from his home. Gene sat in the passenger seat of their blue Honda, brows furrowed and hands twisting together in his lap. Babe frowned and reached over to pull one of Gene’s hands into his own. “Hey,” Babe said, smiling softly when Gene’s wide, dark eyes fixed on him. “It’s gonna be alright. Right?”

Lips pursed tightly, Gene nodded unconvincingly. “Right.”

Babe huffed a soft breath. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Gene. It’s okay. We can just go back home. They’ll find out eventually, right?”

Gene nodded again. “Yeah, they will.” He drawled, voice firmer now. “But after…well, I owe it to ‘em, and I owe it to you, too. Come on.”

And so Babe followed Gene into the dilapidated bar that he’d been to once before when he’d needed directions. It was just past noon and the place was already fairly full, a clamor of noise pouring out as Gene grasped the door and pulled it open. One step inside, the voices hushed abruptly and Babe sidled up next to Gene to see a congregation of men and women staring at Gene with open mouths, a mix of fear, awe, and relief in their eyes. A prickle of… _something_ skittered over Babe’s skin as the air was sucked out of the room for a moment, and things were silent, tense, a whole unspoken conversation happening before Gene decided to raise his hand in a casual wave that seemed to break whatever strange spell had trapped them all. The group exhaled as one and then the barkeep, a middle-aged woman who Babe vaguely recalled, said, loud enough for everyone to hear “You’re back.” Babe knew, immediately, by her tone, that this woman had been one of those to leave prayers and candles.

Gene nodded and smiled at her. “I am.” He cast his gaze around at the bar’s other patrons before he turned back to her. “”M sorry I was gone so long.”

The woman nodded but her eyes had softened. “Just happy to see ya in one piece. What can I get ya?”

Gene glanced at Babe briefly and Babe nodded. “Two beers, please.”

“Comin’ right up,” the woman answered, but then her eyes caught on Babe, who’d been ignored up until this point. “Hey, I recognize you,” She said. “You were in here a while ago, lookin’ for directions.” She glanced between him and Gene and said “I see you found your way.”

“I did,” Babe grinned. He reached his hand out to introduce himself properly. “Name’s Babe Heffron.”

The woman quirked a brow. “Babe.” She shrugged and reached a hand out to shake his. “I’m Stella.” She kept her eyes focused on him but it was obvious that the whole bar was watching and listening, allowing this brave woman to do the talking for them. “So…you visitin’ again?”

“Actually,” Babe said, “I moved….”

At the same moment, Gene blurted “Husband.”

The barkeep, Stella, frowned, her eyes moving back and forth between the two of them. “What?”

Gene drew himself up, tall, powerful, and he laid a hand on Babe’s shoulder. Still, despite his bravery, Babe watched his throat bob with nerves when he explained “We’re married. Babe’s my husband. He’s come to live with me now.”

Babe was certain that was going to do it, get them tossed out into the dirt on their ears and banned from the bar for the rest of their lives. He’d heard stories, many of them, about how people in the South felt about people like him and Gene. Hell, even Philly was pretty bad. But again, Babe had misjudged something about the people here. Maybe it bothered them, maybe they found it strange, but they either loved Gene or feared him enough that they kept their peace if they did. Then again, maybe they didn’t. 

After a long moment, Stella finally nodded and said “Well, alright.” She assessed Babe anew now, perhaps trying to determine whether he was a witch as well, or some other kind of supernatural creature. Babe almost snorted at the thought. If they only knew. Finally, though, she seemed to decide it didn’t matter at the moment because she passed their beers over and added “Welcome to Bayou Chene. Find yourselves a seat and I’ll whip you up a burger, on the house.”

And, hell, Babe decided, now that she’d mentioned it, he was pretty damn hungry.


	3. Some Kind of Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe gets an unexpected but welcome call.

The phone’s shrill ring startled Babe in the otherwise silent house. He’d never get used to such a blaring sound. It was times like these that he missed his cell phone, but it was useless out here, and he’d since let the battery die. He bolted across to the kitchen, plucking the phone from its cradle on the wall before it could ring again and gasped “Hello?”

“Hey kid,” a smooth, charming voice greeted through the line. He could practically _hear_ Nix’s smile. “How’s it going? How’s married life treating you?”

Babe grinned. “Oh, you know….” He turned his eyes back to where Gene sat on the living room floor, leaves and flowers spread out all around him, mumbling under his breath. “Pretty good. How are you? How’s Dick?”

At the name, Gene’s eyes flickered up and he muttered, “Tell ‘em I say hi.”

Babe nodded and turned his attention back to the voice in his ear. “Yeah, we’re good. Really good. Benny says hi, by the way. I can’t believe you forgot about him.”

Babe snorted. “Are you kiddin’ me? Benny’s my favorite.”

“Say hi, Benny. Go on, say hi.” Nix’s voice cooed over the line and Babe rolled his eyes, imagining the puppy perched in Nix’s lap, tongue lolling. “He won’t do it. Sorry.”

“Too bad,” Babe grinned. “I know he loves me anyway.”

Nix chuckled and some strange, buried part of Babe reared its head and settled, happily, at the sound. Weird ass vampire genes. Guess he’d have to mention that to Gene later. “Benny loves everyone. He’s getting big now, too.”

“I bet. I saw the paws on him.”

“Yeah.” He could imagine the huge grin on Nix’s face. “So how’s the bayou?”

Babe pouted. “Hot. Wet. Full of bugs.”

Nix laughed delightedly. “Sounds lovely.”

Again, Babe fixed his gaze on Gene where he continued to work studiously. “It is, really.”

“Ugh,” Nix groaned. “You’re so sappy. He’s there right now, isn’t he?”

“Yep. And who are you to talk? You and Dick are the sappiest people I’ve ever met.”

“Hey,” Nix growled, “show your elders some respect.” Aside, he could hear Nix grumble “You hear that, Benny? Kids these days, I swear.”

It was funnier because to anyone who didn’t know that Nix had been a century-old vampire, he looked like a 25 year old man, still young with a boyish face, a messy head of dark hair, and a wicked grin. Babe knew better, though. He’d had a taste of what Nix was, had an inkling of the type of challenge this must be for the ex-vampire. So he swallowed his own grin, turned away from the distraction that was Gene, and said “How are you? Really?”

The line was silent, then, except for a thick swallow and a breath. “Good. Most of the time. I uh…I have some bad days, though.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

A wet-sounding chuckle. “I don’t wanna kill the mood. It’s not a happy topic.”

“So?” Babe shrugged. “Tell me anyway.”

Nix sighed and Babe was struck, again, by how strange their situation was. The only reason he knew Nix at all is because the vampire had saved his life by turning him into a vampire as well. Then he’d mentored him and helped him in whatever way he could; a strangely familial, almost paternal bond had formed between them, and now, oddly enough, Babe was the only other ex-vampire that they knew of. Which meant, in this regard, he was the only one who could even come close to grasping what Nix was going through. Their relationship was still new, in the grand scheme of things, but… unique, and real, regardless. They were some strange kind of family, and Babe made it a point to be there for his family.

Nix sighed again and said “Can you believe that just…walking around during the day is one of the hardest things?” Babe heard a scuffing sound on the other end of the line, then Nix mutter _“Go get it, go on! Then bring it back!”_ Playing fetch with Benny. “I just…can’t get used to it. I got a sunburn last week and thought I was dying.” He laughed self-deprecatingly. “I thought….” A thick gulp. “I thought that the spell…or whatever it was…was fading. I thought I was…well. It took a moment for Dick to remind me that sunburns happen to people with pale skin like me when they fall asleep in the grass during midday.” Babe wanted to crack a joke, to lighten the mood, to remind Nix that it was okay, but it felt ungenuine. So he kept his silence. _“Good boy, Benny! Go get it!”_ Nix sighed and Babe felt the weight of the words through the line before he heard them. “Sometimes I think I’m still a monster.”

How was Babe supposed to explain to this man that it wasn’t fangs that made a monster? Nix was the one who’d told Babe that, after all. Babe swallowed thickly. “You’re not.”

“Right,” Nix said, voice suddenly all smiles again. “Enough of that. Thanks for listening, kid.”

“Yeah,” Babe said, frowning. He might not be an expert, but he was pretty sure Nix was fighting his trauma with one arm tied behind his back right now. But Babe knew that to bring it up again, though, after Nix had shared what he had, would only make it harder next time. So instead, he decided to turn the conversation. “You guys should come visit sometime.”

The line was quiet for just a beat, but it was long enough, before Nix said “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why not? You, Dick, and Benny. We can go fishin’.”

Nix chuckled and it sounded real this time, less fragile. “Dick would probably love that. Actually, I think he misses you guys. It’s been too quiet around here lately.”

Babe turned back to where Gene was staring up at him from the floor, very interested in the conversation now. Babe knew he’d probably been listening for a while. “Well, you guys are welcome anytime,” he said, staring at Gene. “We miss you guys, too.”

Gene nodded quietly and sat back, bracing himself on his palms as Babe twisted the phone cord around his fingers.

Nix cleared his throat. “That, uh…that sounds good. Thanks. I’ll talk to Dick.”

“Great. Let us know when to expect you.”

“Yeah, I will.” The line grew quiet again and then Nix said “And uh, thanks again, you know…for everything.”

Babe smiled, and that little strange place inside him breathed a sigh of relief, satisfied. “Anytime.”


	4. Leaning In

Babe twirled the bottle around his fingers before holstering it in its slot like a cowboy. He flung the towel over his shoulder and smiled cheekily at Stella, wiggling his eyebrows as he did so. She stared at him, completely unimpressed, and muttered “You’re ridiculous. Remind me again why I hired you?”

Babe shrugged. “Because I needed a job and you wanted a day off?”

She snorted. “Right. I remember now.” She rolled her eyes and retreated to the kitchen. The door swung shut behind her and Babe allowed a small, quiet grin to quirk his lips. 

The Bar wasn’t Toye’s, would never really be home, but it felt good to be behind a bar again, doing something that he was good at. Gene had insisted that Babe didn’t need to work—Gene had enough to provide for him, between fishing and healing and doing odd jobs around the parish—but Babe had simply kissed him to kill any further protest and informed Gene that he needed something of his own to do, too. Phrased that way, Gene hadn’t been willing to argue.

So Babe worked a shift at The Bar a few times a week and it was just enough to keep his mind busy, just enough to remind him that he was human, he was himself, he was alive. He lifted his eyes toward the door and smiled when a young, dark-haired woman pushed her way in, holding a covered glass dish in her hands. “Uh…Babe, right?” She asked as she approached the bar.

Babe smiled. “That’s me. What can I get ya?”

“Oh, nothin’. Just droppin’ this off for uh…the Doc. My sister said to tell him thanks for, uh…helpin’ her out the other day.” She pushed the dish across the bar toward him. She seemed embarrassed, almost, to be talking to him here. She glanced back toward the door, as if afraid maybe Gene had followed her in at the mention of him. “You’ll thank him for us, won’t ya? We didn’t want to, uh…impose.”

Babe’s stomach tightened but he tossed her a reassuring smile, anyway. “’Course. Thanks for this.” He held up the dish, not knowing what was in it.

She smiled skittishly and then retreated back out the door.

Babe took a deep, steadying breath. Baby steps.

* * *

He tapped his hands on the steering wheel, the radio fuzzy on the only rock station they could get down here. He could barely hear the song, but enough to know it was CCR. Fitting. He flicked his eyes at the glass dish again—holding some sort of pudding, he thought—and then focused on the drive once more. The ruts in the road were getting bad. He’d have to do something about it soon, before his Civic bottomed out. 

He rehearsed the words in his head again. _“She just happened to drop in to the bar, said to tell you thanks. Oh yeah, this is for you.”_ No, not right. _“She was in a hurry, but she said they really appreciate everything you did and they hope you’re doing okay.”_ Nope. Gene would spot that lie before it cleared his lips. _“They’re afraid of you, but they care. They do.”_ Babe huffed. Gene deserved better than that. He deserved their love and their appreciation, without the taint of constant fear. What had he ever done to these people to earn this behavior? The image flashed before his eyes, then: _The flicker of a lightbulb and the crack of lightning in the man’s dark eyes._ So what? So what if they knew? He’d never used it against them. He’d only ever served them. Couldn’t they see that? Couldn’t they…?!

Babe pulled his little gray Civic into the muddy drive next to Gene’s worn blue pickup truck and suddenly all of his frustrations, all of his words flew out of his head as he spotted Gene rising from the porch steps where he’d been waiting for him, a soft loving smile on his lips. 

This was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

Babe frowned down at the package of rice in his hand then eyed the yellow package on the shelf. “Gene,” he called to the man who was inspecting a can of…something…across the aisle. “Is this the kind of rice you like?” He held it up and Gene turned to him, nodding distractedly before he went back to his own task. “You’d think I’d know it by now,” Babe muttered under his breath. “Blue package, Babe. Blue package.”

“Grab two,” Gene murmured, brushing a hand across Babe’s back and curling it up to his shoulder. “I’m gonna teach you ta make etouffee tonight, if ya want.”

Babe’s stomach grumbled. “Hell yeah,” he replied, turning to grin at Gene as he dropped the rice into their cart. “What next?”

“Peppers.”

So Babe followed Gene to the produce section of the small grocery store and simply watched, a smile on his face as Gene maneuvered through the bins of vegetables, squeezing and sniffing the specimens as necessary. Babe was a lucky man.

In the month he’d lived in Louisiana, he’d learned a lot of things. He learned that a few shifts at the bar and some odd jobs provided enough cash to buy food and pay for gas and for other little things that he and Gene needed. He’d learned that he didn’t need much, really, beyond the basic necessities, Gene, and the rest of his family. And Babe was damn lucky, because now he had more family than he ever coulda imagined. It was a strange family, all stuck together like a patchwork quilt, but they were his family and like an old quilt, they were warm, comforting, and told a story about his life. He had his ma, Bill, and the rest of the Philly crew, including humans like Julian, werewolves, and Luz, the shifter. He had hunters in his family now—Lipton and Dick. He had a strange, paternal relationship with Nix even though the guy looked like he was Babe’s age (and having a former vampire who you’re still sort of psychically attached to as a weird adoptive father figure was still throwing him for a loop). And now he had Gene and maybe even Renee. It was a strange family, but it was a good one, and it was Babe’s. 


	5. Seeking Solace

Sometimes he still had nightmares. He wasn’t exactly over it and he didn’t think he ever really would be. He had, after all, stabbed the man he loved and he’d tortured the hunter and done absolutely terrible, horrific things to him. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t Babe himself who’d done those things, but he’d been strapped into the passenger seat for the whole damn ride.

He still hadn’t managed to speak to Lipton much since…well. The hunter had been at the wedding, and they’d shaken hands (albeit with a wince) and Lip had congratulated them and then they’d stood awkwardly, just staring at each other until the hunter had run away to find Dick. They hadn’t known each other too well before things went down, but Babe knew he was a good guy, and he was one of Dick’s best friends, which meant he was part of the family now, regardless of what else had befallen them. 

It was terrible for Babe to think it, but the truth is that the best he’d ever known Lip was when they’d both been possessed by demons. It was fucked up, but it was true.

And yeah, Babe wasn’t over it.

He didn’t like talking about it much. Gene had asked, over the months, whether Babe was okay and if he wanted to talk to someone about it. Babe knew that Lip was seeing a therapist now, some guy named Meehan who apparently specialized in the weird. But therapy wasn’t really Babe’s style. Maybe it was because of the Church, or maybe because he was raised by a literal pack of wolves in South Philly, but he’d just never seen the appeal of sharing his innermost thoughts with a complete stranger. His friends had offered too, to be a sympathetic ear, but Babe couldn’t bring himself to do it. How could he tell his ma, or Bill, that he’d been sobbing on the inside, begging for release, while the demon who’d trapped him had wrought havoc? Gene had offered, but he couldn’t do that. Absolutely not. He couldn’t talk to Gene about it. Some nights, when he woke from the nightmares, it was hard enough just looking at the other man sprawled in the bed next to him, soft and trusting and alive. Babe didn’t like to talk about it, but he could still feel the blood pulsing warmly over his hand, could feel the knife pierce Gene’s soft belly. He remembered the taste of that dried blood, and the zing of power that had come with it. He remembered too much, really. Even becoming a vampire hadn’t dulled it, and that was a whole other problem.

See…whatever spell Gene had done had cured him. It had turned him back into a human. He was good as new. Mostly.

But there were some things that would never be the same again.

He didn’t need blood any more, he didn’t crave it either. But he could _remember_ wanting it. He could remember the liquid lightning that had zinged over his tongue when he’d gotten his first taste of Gene. And then another, straight from the vein. He could remember the pure pleasure of pressing his lover into the door, hitching him up with his strong legs wrapped around Babe’s hips, and he could remember sinking his teeth into the pale, tender flesh of Gene’s throat. It was the closest fucking thing to Heaven that he’d ever experienced and probably ever would. So yeah, he didn’t still want those things, but he could remember wanting them and it was almost as bad.

And then there was that thing with Nix.

Babe felt a twinge in his chest just thinking about him. He wasn’t sure what exactly Gene’s spell had done. For all intents and purposes, Babe was a human again. A regular Joe. He ate real food and slept and walked around in the sunshine. But…something had twisted in his DNA when Nix had bit him. Maybe it was a virus, or maybe it was a poison in the saliva, or maybe Babe really had died and come back as something different. Maybe if he ever gave blood, the doctor who examined it would look up, horrified, and know Babe for what he’d been, for what he might still be. 

Despite Gene’s efforts, not everything had gone away.

While Babe had been a vampire, things were…chaotic. Overwhelming. Insane. He’d barely begun to get a hold of himself when he’d been cured. So he’d taken the connection for granted and hadn’t even really noticed it until after, because it was one thing that _didn’t_ go away with Gene’s blood magic.

Babe had been too nervous to ask Nix what it was, exactly, and maybe the ex-vampire himself didn’t know, but they had some sort of…connection. Babe didn’t know if it was a general vampire thing, or if it was a sire thing, but he felt a sense of love and loyalty to the other man that couldn’t be explained simply by their time in the house together. Hearing the other man’s voice now soothed him. When Nix was upset, it upset him. It almost felt like there was a second heart in his chest sometimes, beating just out of rhythm with his own. 

He’d been too afraid to mention it to Gene, even though he knew he should. He was afraid of what it might mean. He knew it wasn’t psychological, not like the other stuff. This was real, and he was pretty sure Nix felt it too. But bringing it up felt too much like courting disaster. Felt too much like suggesting that Gene’s spell had failed. Felt too much like admitting that he was still a monster. And so neither of them mentioned it, but he knew they both still felt it.

Babe had asked Gene before how he dealt with troubling things, because Babe knew the witch had seen and experienced terrible things in his time. Gene had given him a sad, aching smile, and told him that it was best to keep busy. So when Babe found the walls closing in on him and the darkness approaching, he found ways to keep himself busy and productive.

The Bar helped a little. It was good to be around people, and the muscle memory of serving up drinks was comforting because it required little thought. At home, he helped Gene to gather roots and leaves from the swamp when he was brave enough to venture in. He decided to start a little garden at the side of the house, which took a lot of his focus because Babe had never planted anything before in his life. And now, suddenly, he lovingly tended seeds, pushing them deep into the dark, damp Louisiana soil and prayed that they’d sprout into something good. Gene continued to teach him how to cook, and though Babe knew he’d probably never be as good at it as his husband, he could put together a basic meal now without burning their kitchen down. 

But sometimes it wasn’t enough. Sometimes he had to get out.

He’d begun to take long walks around the parish, turning down small, twisting roads, his hands shoved into his pockets, eyes scanning the trees and brush for rogue gators. A year ago, he would’ve been too afraid to go walking in this place alone, but things were different now. Now, Babe knew what was out there, he knew what kinds of things lurked in the dark and waited for a man. But he also knew that he was protected—better protected than most. And he felt a bit like ragged, backwoods royalty whenever he passed by a member of the community and they tipped their head to him in acknowledgement of the man he was married to.

It was on one of those walks, turned down a narrow, swampy lane, too late in the evening, when he finally met her.

Renee.

Even after all these months, even in the darkening gloom, even at a distance, he recognized her. And she recognized him, too. 

He didn’t have to walk to her. In the space between blinks she was there, in front of him, within easy reach, and she frowned (just a slight downward turn of her lips) as she looked him over from head to toe and back again.

“You are here.”

Babe cleared his throat, the fearful throb of his pulse making him sweat more than the sticky air. “Hi,” he said, nervous. “I’m Babe.”

Renee nodded, just slightly. “I know who you are, Edward.” Her frown smoothed a fraction. “Babe.”

She was a ghost, Babe knew, which was disconcerting on so many levels, even after everything he’d witnessed in the last year. But she was more than that. She was also Gene’s best friend. His oldest friend. And during one of those long, painful nights when Babe was being brought back to life, Gene had told him that Renee had helped Gene to get Babe back. She was an ally. A friend. Family, to Gene. And he owed her one.

Babe pulled a shaky hand from his pocket and swiped the sweat from his forehead, making his hair stick up at odd angles. “You’re Renee.”

“I am,” she said, sounding pleased. “You came to be with Eugene.”

Babe shifted uneasily. “Yeah, we’re married now.”

A strange, melancholy cast flickered over her face before she smiled and cocked her head, taking him in once more. “Then you and I should be friends. We have much in common.”

Babe gulped, because he couldn’t see anything they had in common—she was the ghost of a swamp witch, or at least, Babe thought so, and he was…a boy from Philly.

Renee smiled and held a hand out to him. “We both love Eugene Roe.”

Babe’s heart kicked harder against his ribs at hearing the words, and he stared down at Renee’s ghostly, near-transparent hand. He forced a smile to his trembling lips and said “We do.” Then, before he could think too long about it, or what it meant, or what it might do, he took her hand, or at least, he tried to. His hand, solid and warm, passed straight through hers though he felt an immediate chill followed by the sensation of pins and needles. 

Renee stared down at her hand, where Babe’s had gone through, and then she shrugged and said “Hmm…I thought it might work for you. No matter.” She turned and motioned Babe to follow her as she retreated down the lane, apparently happy enough that he had tried, even though he hadn’t been able to touch her.

“Where are we going?” Babe hated how nervous he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. He was following a ghost, who loved the same man as him, down a dark lane into a swamp. He couldn’t decide whether he should trust her or not. 

“There is another way back to the house,” Renee murmured, her bare feet moving quickly over the damp ground, leaving no marks. “I will show you.”

“Alright.” Babe said, and he decided to follow her, come what may. Gene trusted her and the man hadn’t led Babe wrong in the whole time he’d known him.

“What brings you out here, so far from home?” Renee asked. Her ragged skirts passed through the gnarled branches and vines that stretched into the continuously narrowing lane. Babe’s own jeans caught on them, but he brushed them aside and pushed through, hoping that their way wouldn’t get any more close—he hated bugs. And Gene was always warning him about gators. “So far from Gene?” 

“Oh.” Babe frowned and tried to align his steps with hers, which was difficult, since nothing got in her way. “Just needed to think.”

Renee cast a glance over her shoulder, casual, but Babe still felt pinned by her heavy blue gaze. “Dark thoughts?”

It wasn’t any of her business, and Babe almost told her so, but he held himself back. Gene went above and beyond to play nice with Babe’s friends. Babe owed him the same effort. So, instead, he simply kicked at a twig and said “Yeah, something like that.”

“And yet you are here, furthest from the person who could help you best.” She’d resumed her trek, leading him now down a narrow path and into the dark press of trees. 

“Gene can’t help me with this.”

“He would try,” Renee said. “He is very skilled, our Eugene.”

“He is,” Babe agreed. “But…this isn’t something I can share with him.”

“You do not trust him?” She asked, and it sounded innocent, but it felt like the accusation Babe knew that it was. 

“I don’t want to hurt him!” Babe snapped, temper flaring. He clenched his teeth to hold back another remark. He stopped, planting his feet in the mud. Renee continued another few gliding steps before she stopped and turned to him, eyes flat, judging. Babe wasn’t going to take that lying down. “Look, I don’t know you and it’s none of your business. Normally, I’d tell you to fuck off with that accusatory tone, but I know that you care about Gene, so I won’t.” He took a deep, steadying breath. “He’s been through enough. He has his own burdens to bear without me adding all of mine to his shoulders, too. I know he’d try to help, and he might even be able to, but it would hurt him to do it, and I’m tired of seeing Gene hurt himself for other people. So I’m not going to. I’m going to deal with it on my own and I’m going to take care of him, too, because it’s what he deserves. It’s what he needs. And I don’t give a fuck if you understand that.” Babe heaved a deep breath, his eyes narrowed at the ghost. “Now show me how to get home.”

Babe expected a protest, or for the ghost to disappear as suddenly as she’d appeared, or for her to push him into the water or something, but none of those things happened. Instead, she simply smiled at him and waved him toward the twisting path. “This way.”

Babe clenched and unclenched his hands for a moment, confused and still riled, but as Renee began to move away without him, he finally decided to follow her. They were quiet, simply maneuvering through the vines and underbrush as the sun continued to sink beyond the horizon. The shadows lengthened. The mosquitos buzzed in his ears. Every so often, something splashed in the water, and if Babe weren’t still so angry, he would’ve been afraid he was about to become gator food. They continued in silence for twenty minutes before Renee said “You may talk to me, if you wish.”

“What?” Babe snapped, swatting a mosquito away from his face.

“When your thoughts grow dark. You may talk to me.” She stopped and turned to face him again, her expression open, eyes earnest. “I am dead, Babe. Your burdens cannot harm me.” She shrugged. “He loves you very much.” She reached for him, then, her pale, dirty fingers raised to his cheek, but as she made to touch him, they brushed through just as before. She sighed. “I will help you to take care of Eugene, as I always have done.” She cocked her head and smiled softly at him. “And now that also means taking care of you.” They stared at each other for a moment, and Babe finally began to understand what this whole meeting had been about. He felt the tension drain from his shoulders and he allowed himself his own soft, grateful smile. “Come, Babe,” Renee said, “we are almost there.”

And, finally understanding each other, Babe followed her.


	6. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: This chapter contains conversations about grief and mourning.

They stood together in the doorway, bathed in the buttery light that poured into the room through the lace curtains that hung, dusty, and untouched for a very long time. It wasn’t that Babe hadn’t noticed the room before when he’d visited—he had, but he’d thought it best not to pry. After he’d moved into the house, Gene had told him, in a quiet voice, and Babe had hugged him and told him that he didn’t have to say anything else. Now, as Babe’s eyes scanned over the two matching beds, boxes, and scattered trinkets, he reached down to grasp Gene’s hand in his own. “We don’t have to, Gene. It’s okay.”

“No.” Gene shook his head but squeezed Babe’s hand in thanks. “It’s time.” He turned his dark eyes to Babe’s and held them. He gave him a sad little smile. “It’s okay with you here. And anyway,” he gazed back into the room, “they’d understand.”

Gene squeezed Babe’s hand one last time before he walked into the room, carefully pushed the curtains back, and opened the window to allow the fresh fall air to blow through. It kicked up a swirl of dust from the antique dresser, but otherwise only ruffled the curtains gently. Gene perched on the edge of one of the beds and just gazed around for a bit, lost in his own thoughts, maybe overwhelmed. “I haven’t been in here in a long time.” Babe didn’t know what to say, so he simply went to sit next to his husband. He pressed their sides together warmly. “For so long, it just…it hurt too much to be here. To be reminded of them. And the loss.” Gene fiddled with his hands. “But I’m not alone anymore. And…and they’d be happy for me.” He leaned his shoulder more heavily against Babe’s. 

“I mean it, Gene. We don’t have to, if it hurts.”

Gene huffed a small laugh and turned toward Babe, his dark eyes just a bit watery. “Your mother is coming to visit, Edward. My mama and grandmother would never forgive me if they knew I’d put her on the couch.” He shook his head and gazed around the room again. “No. We’ll put her here. They’d understand. In fact, they’d insist. And anyway, it doesn’t hurt,” he murmured, “the idea of your mama bein’ in here.”

Babe leaned forward and brushed his lips against Gene’s cheek. “Alright. Tell me what you need.”

They started by washing the bed linens and then hanging them out to dry so that the sun and the cool breeze could dry them. Babe had never realized this before moving to Louisiana, but blankets and clothes dried on the line always smelled better than those dried in a machine. Gene had smiled curiously while Babe tried to explain it to him the first time. Now, as they pinned them up, Gene ran his hands over the patterns on the quilt. “My grandmother made this,” he said, tracing one of the shapes. “And I have some that her mother made, too.”

“Wow.” Babe honestly couldn’t even begin to comprehend owning something that old. But here, in Gene’s home, _his_ new home, in Bayou Chene, most things had a history. 

After the beds were stripped, they dusted and swept, saving the boxes for last. 

Gene stared down at the stack of them, hands on his hips, as if unsure or reluctant to touch. 

“We can move them into our room. Or just move them into the closet if you want,” Babe suggested.

Gene nodded. “Maybe. But, uh…it’d be nice to see what’s in them, again. It’s been years. And when I packed them, I…I wasn’t really…here.”

Babe’s throat felt tight at the idea of Gene, all alone in this house with his grief after the passing of his grandmother and shortly after, his own mother. “Okay. Whatever you want.” He rubbed a line between Gene’s shoulder blades until he felt the muscles relax. Only then did Gene step forward and open one of the boxes. A small, sad smile curved his lips. He reached in and pulled a black leather book from the box. “What is it?” Babe asked.

Gene looked up at him, eyes shining with happiness and unshed tears. “It’s a photo album. Want to look?”

Babe grinned. “Definitely.”

They settled on the couch together, pressed close, and Babe wrapped an arm around Gene’s shoulders. Gene opened the album carefully and Babe could see that it was thick with photos and age. Whoever had kept the album had arranged things in a vague chronological order, as if each photo had been added lovingly whenever it had been taken, as if photos were a rarity, a luxury, which Babe supposed they probably were in rural Louisiana, especially that long ago. 

The album began with black and white and sepia toned photos. Gene gently brushed his long, delicate fingers against the edges of the photos while he recited the names of the people captured within them, and Babe wondered if he’d done this same thing with his mother or his grandmother, if he recited their names in the same way they’d been told to him. 

Finally, Gene turned a page and his recitations halted for a moment. A soft, sad smile curled his lips and he pointed to a black and white photo of a young couple embracing and smiling shyly at one another. “That’s my grandmother and grandfather,” Gene said, running the pad of his finger over the edge. “When they were younger.”

Babe smiled. “They look really happy.”

Gene nodded. “They were.”

“You never talk about your grandfather.”

Gene shrugged a shoulder. “I never knew ‘im. He passed shortly before I was born. But my grandmother loved him. She never went with another man after him.”

“Did he know…you know? That she was a healer?”

“Oh, yeah.” Gene smirked. “That’s how they met. She fixed ‘im up.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “And I guess that was all it took. He never really left after that.”

Babe smiled knowingly.

As they made their way through the photos of his grandparents, Gene told him stories about the things his grandmother taught him, about the good times they had. It was a whole history unfolding before him, and Babe had never felt closer to this man who he loved. 

Finally, the couple became a trio with the addition of a little girl.

“Your mom?” Babe guessed.

“Yeah.” Gene’s voice hitched, but he kept smiling.

Eventually, the photos transitioned from black and white to color. When they did, Babe frowned over at Gene, who continued to gaze lovingly at the images. “Gene,” he said, with only the hint of an accusation, “you never told me that your ma had red hair and hazel eyes.”

Gene glanced up at him and shrugged. “Guess I didn’t.”

Babe quirked a brow, skeptical. “I guess I just thought that, ya know…she’d look like you.”

Gene shook his head. “She and my grandmother were two peas in a pod, but I was always the odd one out. She always said that I look like my father.” Before Babe had to decide whether or not to ask and risk that potential minefield, Gene waved his hand. “I never knew him and she never spoke about him.”

Babe decided not to point out that Gene’s mother had a very similar coloring to Babe himself, and in fact his own mother. Gene was a pretty perceptive guy, after all. He was sure he already knew. But it made Babe curious. Definitely something to think about later.

As they paged through the album, they watched Gene’s mother grow up and his grandparents grow older. Gene’s mother often wore a similar smile to Gene, a shy but mischievous curve of the lips and a slight squint to the eyes, as if she was daring you to come on an adventure with her. “She looked like she liked to have fun.” Babe commented. Then he pointed toward the smile. “You get that exact same look, too.”

Gene glanced up at him, brows furrowed, slight quirk to his lips. “I do?”

“Oh, yeah. Whenever you’re about to start something.”

Gene laughed. “Good to know.”

The pages turned. Gene’s grandfather disappeared. A dark-haired baby showed up, perched on the redhead’s hip. “Oh my God,” Babe gasped, pointing, “you were such a cute baby!”

Gene blushed and elbowed him. “Cut it out, Edward.”

“Not a chance,” Babe laughed, “look at you!”

“That’s it.” Gene declared, “We’re done.” He moved to close the album, but Babe grabbed him, laughing.

“No, no. Come on. I’ll behave myself. I promise.”

Gene quirked a disbelieving brow. “Of course you will.” He snorted, but relaxed again, and turned the page.

Before him, Babe watched the love of his life grow up. Gene in his mother’s arms. Sleeping in his grandmother’s lap. Holding a frog. Waving, barefooted, from a rickety looking dock with the river in the background. He was a skinny kid, all arms and legs with disheveled black hair and big, dark eyes that smiled up at the camera. Just the hint of trouble. Through a series of photos, he grew into an adolescent. Lean and long-limbed, wearing his usual of jeans and t-shirts, and though he still smiled at the camera, his eyes had grown more serious. Gene, in shorts and a t-shirt with his mother and grandmother on each side of him, all smiling proudly into the camera. Gene, holding up a paper that Babe couldn’t quite read. Gene, asleep on the couch with a book splayed on his chest. Babe’s heart clenched to look at it, to know that there was still so much about this man that he didn’t know, that he’d never know. That there were so many years that they hadn’t been together. Years that, he knew, had often been very hard for Gene. 

The last photo in the album was one of Gene, his mother, and grandmother perched on a bench together with plates of food on the table before them. After, the pages were blank.

“Church picnic.” Gene offered, pointing to the picture. “The last one we ever went to.” In it, Gene was younger than he was now, but still mostly grown. He didn’t have to say anything else for Babe to understand that his grandmother likely passed shortly after that. They stared down at the picture for a long time, both of them dwelling on their own thoughts, and then Gene cleared his throat and his voice was slightly thick when he said, “You know… there’s lots of things they never tell you. About grief. About loss.” He shook his head. “It never really ends. You find new ways to miss someone every single day.” He looked up at Babe and his eyes were watery. He raised a hand and traced his fingers over Babe’s cheek. “It makes me sad that they never got to meet you. They’d be happy for us, you know. Real happy.” Gene shook his head. “You would’ve loved ‘em. My mama was the best cook you ever met. She taught me everything I know. She would’ve taken one look at how skinny you are and she would’ve been determined to feed you. And my grandmother,” Gene laughed wetly, “the two a’ you woulda gotten up to so much trouble together.”

“I’m sad I had to miss that, too,” Babe said, capturing Gene’s hand and holding it in his own. “I’m sure they were amazing ladies. Had to be, to raise a guy like you. But I know they’d be proud of you, Gene. So proud. You’re the best person I know. And I’m sure they knew that too.”

For the next few minutes, Babe held Gene close and quietly kissed the tears from his cheeks as he cried.


	7. The Visit: Part I

Gene was normally a steady, self-assured man, one who could take on some of the world’s scariest beings with a lazy drawl and a quirk of his brow. But not today. Today, Gene was a whirlwind of motion and humming anxiety. He’d been jittery since the dawn, when he’d thrown off his blankets and practically leapt from the bed to start his day. Babe had watched with a frown and a slight shake of his head. 

Now, he leaned in the doorway of the spare room and watched as Gene tidied the space once more. Clean sheets: check. Plumped pillows: check. Gene’s grandma’s quilt, lovingly folded: check. A spray of bayou flowers in a pretty blue vase on the nightstand: check. And yet…. “Gene,” Babe said, clearing his throat, “what’re you doing?”

“Just makin’ sure the room is ready for your mama.” Gene glanced up at Babe from under his dark fringe as he continued to swipe non-existent dust from the nightstand. 

“It’s great, Gene. And it’s done. Come on.”

Gene frowned at him, but nodded, following Babe out of the room. Babe could hear him fussing with things as they went, and by the time they reached the living room, Babe thought he was gonna lose his mind. The shelves and bookcases that ringed the room were tidier than Babe had ever seen them—the jars and bottles, books and tools lined up neatly with all of the labels facing outward in a row. Not a speck of dust to be seen. The couch had also had its ancient cushions plumped and another quilt and pillow perched on the side table next to it, ready for Bill. Still, Gene moved restlessly around the room, scrubbing at the windowsill, straightening a jar _just so,_ and that was it. Babe couldn’t take it anymore.

He went to where Gene was fussing with the curtain and wrapped the man in his arms from behind. Babe perched his chin on Gene’s shoulder and the other man stilled immediately in his arms, startled from his mania. “Gene,” Babe breathed against his neck. He pressed a kiss there. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’.” Gene mumbled, straightening just slightly at having been caught out. 

Babe tightened his hold, his hands traveling up Gene’s belly to his chest so that he could press them more tightly against each other. “What is it? You nervous to have guests?”

Gene’s shoulders slumped slightly and he leaned back against Babe. “No. It ain’t that.”

“Is it Bill? Because he promised to behave himself, ya know?”

Gene snorted, shaking his head. “No, it ain’t Bill.” He sighed and turned his face away from Babe’s. “It’s stupid.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Gene sighed again. “I want our home to be nice for your mama.”

“Okay,” Babe agreed. “It is.”

Gene pulled himself from Babe’s arms and folded his arms across his chest, stubborn. His dark eyes fixed on Babe’s. “Look…I know this ain’t the kind of home you grew up in. It’s…different. A lot different.” He looked out the window, away from Babe. “I know it’s a swamp, Edward. And I know the house is old. There’s lots of things that need doin’.” He swallowed thickly, as if the words were shards of glass. “I ain’t a rich man, Edward. I don’t want your mama worryin’ about you. I don’t want her to think that I….”

“No.” Babe said, taking a determined step forward. Gene’s eyes snapped to his—within them, a dark swirling abyss—this really had been eating at Gene for a while, hadn’t it? Well, enough of that. “No, I won’t listen to this, Gene. And whatever little voice in your head is saying those things—you shouldn’t listen to it, either, alright?” Gene shifted uncomfortably at Babe’s approach, but Babe wasn’t gonna let him get away. Babe poked him in the chest and Gene straightened, at attention as if ready for a reprimand. “You, Eugene Roe, are the best man that I’ve ever known in my whole damn life.” Gene flinched at the poke. “You are kind and caring. Selfless. You battled the forces of Hell for me, Gene, and you gave _your own blood_ to cure me.” Gene tried to turn away, but Babe wouldn’t let him. He reached up, cupping Gene’s jaw in his hands. “This house is our home, Gene. Sure, there are things that need fixin’, but whose house doesn’t have those things? We’re safe and happy here, and we’ve always got enough to eat. And okay, sure, sometimes I think the heat in this swamp might kill me, if the mosquitos or the gators don’t, but this is where _you’re_ at, so I can deal.”

“Edward—”

“No, you listen to me.” Babe huffed. “ _I love you,_ Gene, and I’d follow you anywhere, you understand? I love you and you love me and this is our home, and that’s all that matters.” He quirked a brow. “Besides, I didn’t marry you so you could _provide for me,_ Gene. I’ve got a job, too. This is a team effort, alright?”

“Edward—”

“We’re a team, Gene. You and me.” He huffed and pressed his forehead against Gene’s. “Besides, my ma loves you. Seriously.”

Gene nodded, his eyes wet as he lowered them. “I love you too, Babe.” Gene murmured. He flicked his gaze up, lashes wet. “I’ve been foolish, haven’t I?”

Babe nodded but kissed his husband anyway. “You have, but I still love you.” He lowered his hands finally. “Now, for God’s sake, sit down and eat somethin’. My ma’s already gonna bitch at me and say that you’re too skinny.”

* * *

Babe was waiting for Bill and his ma when they got off the plane in Baton Rouge. He was standing at the luggage carousel, hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. It’d been two months since he’d seen either of them, which was crazy enough, but neither of them had been to visit yet. So even though Babe was nowhere near as nervous as Gene, he was still a bit nervous. He, too, wanted his family to see that he was doing well and that he and Gene had a good home. He heard them before he saw them, and a grin spread across his face.

“Hurry up, we don’t want to be late.”

“Late for what? You think Babe came all this way to leave without us?”

“Don’t you sass me, Bill Guarnere, you know what I mean. There’s gonna be a line at the baggage claim.”

The last thing Babe heard was Bill’s aggrieved sigh before the two of them came into view—his mother, shorter than Babe, slightly plump, with graying red hair and a harried expression on her face. And Bill, face twisted in an annoyed scowl, striding across the airport before he saw him and whooped out loud. “Hey, there’s our boy now!” Bill hollered, and the two of them sped up.

Babe jogged over to meet them. He and his ma threw their arms around each other and she kissed him on the cheek. “Oh, Babe! I’m so happy to see you!”

“You too, ma, how was the flight?”

As she broke from him, saying “Oh, the usual,” Bill pulled him into a huge bear hug and slapped him on the back.

“What ya been up to, Babe? No good, I bet!” Then he chuckled to himself and moved around Babe to haul a bag off the carousel. “Look, it’s yours!” Bill called.

Babe’s ma waved acknowledgement but her attention was still fixed on Babe. “How are you, sweetheart?” She scanned him, from head to toe, then back again. “You’re too skinny, but you always have been. And is that a tan?” Babe blushed—it sort of was, if you counted huge blothes of gathered freckles. “You look good.” She smiled at him.

“So do you, ma. And I’m surprised I’m still skinny, with all the good food Gene makes. Speaking of, I don’t know if you guys are hungry, but if you can handle waitin’, I know Gene’s got lunch on.”

Another smile. “Oooh, well that sounds nice. Yes, I’m sure we can wait.” She rolled her eyes as Bill practically growled at another person waiting for their bags. “At least, I can. Bill might need a snack.”

A moment later, the man in question strode back over to them, hauling two bags with another slung over his shoulder. “Got ‘em! We ready?”

“Yeah,” Babe grinned. “Let’s go.”

* * *

If you looked at a map, you might be tempted to say that Gene’s home wasn’t _too far_ from Baton Rouge, but when you were traveling through the Bayou country, you learned that distance wasn’t quite measured that way. It took a while. Babe’s ma was fascinated as they traveled over really shitty roads—some hadn’t been properly maintained, others had just been partially swallowed by the living, seething swamp at their edges. And sometimes you couldn’t just _go through,_ you had to _go around._ “Wow,” Babe’s ma wondered as she stared out the passenger window of Babe’s car, “how do you not get lost out here?”

Babe snorted. “Sometimes I still do, to be honest. But I don’t usually go far from home, and I know if I can’t find my way back, someone else will.”

“Lots of helpful neighbors?”

Babe rolled his eyes, thinking of Renee, and the gators, and the often-surly parishioners. “Something like that.”

Eventually, the land became more familiar and as they passed through the closest little town, Babe pointed out where they could buy what they needed while they were visiting. A little bit on, he pointed out the bar where he worked. “You’ll have to take us some time.” His ma chirped, and Babe grinned even harder thinking about how that’d go down, but it was easy enough to agree. 

“And here’s our lane—Wisteria Creek.” The ruts in the road were still as deep and the tangle of weeds as intimidating as Babe remembered from the first time he’d been here. As the lane curved around, the house came into view. Settled in the middle of a clearing with large Spanish-moss covered trees surrounding it was their home. It was a modest thing—just a couple bedrooms and old fashioned appliances. It was short and squat, slightly raised from the ground in parts, with a wide front porch (which dangled several windchimes), front steps, and a tin roof. Gene waited for them on the steps and as he raised his head to gaze at them, Babe felt the same butterflies he always did. “Well, here’s home.” He spread his hands to take in the whole thing, and turned to gauge his ma’s reaction, but she’d already popped the passenger door and was hurrying across the drive to meet Gene, who was blushing with pleasure.

In the backseat, Bill leaned forward, just slightly, and muttered “It looks different now.”

Babe half-turned and frowned. “Different? What the hell are ya talkin’ about?”

Bill shrugged. “From the last time I was here.”

Now, Babe had fully turned. “What?!” He screeched, “You’ve been here before? When?”

Bill rolled his eyes like Babe was a moron (which, later, okay, Babe would concede) and said “Uh, I’m the one who sent ya here, remember? Of course I’d been before. The first time I met him. When he and I made our bargain.”

Babe stared at his friend, amazed that he’d never thought to ask the question (to be fair, he’d already been mooning over Gene at that point, and _that_ man could be very distracting). “We’re talking about that before you leave here.” He ordered, pointing in Bill’s face.

Bill snapped his teeth close enough to make Babe flinch and smirked at the reaction. “Yeah, whatever you say, Babe. Right now I just want some food.”

Babe and Bill hauled the luggage into the house while Babe’s ma tugged Gene up the steps of his own home, eager for him to show her around. Babe rolled his eyes as he followed, listening to the snippets of conversation he could catch—His mother praising how tidy it was, how homey it felt, and _oh my, is that refrigerator vintage?!_ Gene’s blush had migrated to the tips of his ears now, but Babe could tell that he was happy with her reaction. “Sorry again about the couch,” Babe muttered to Bill when he indicated his friend could sit his suitcase at the side of it. “We’ve only got the one spare room.”

“Eh,” Bill waved off the apology, “a couch is good enough for me. Now stand still, Babe, and let me take a look at you.” Bill grinned at him, annoyance from the flight apparently having worn off. Bill looked him over then quirked a brow. “I think you got taller. Come here.” He hugged Babe tightly, the grip belying the teasing. Babe pressed his cheek to Bill’s shoulder, glad his friend was here. He’d missed him a lot.

“You stretch like taffy in this heat,” Babe smirked. “Watch out, or it’ll happen to you, too.”

“Wouldn’t mind bein’ a bit taller. Shut Joe up about it.” He chuckled, then rubbed his hands together and his eyes fluttered shut. “Oh God, what’s that smell?”

Babe grinned. “Gene’s makin’ his gumbo for dinner.”

“What?” Bill snapped, turning to him with large, sad eyes. “You mean we have to _wait_ to eat?”

Babe snickered. “Just the gumbo, calm down. We have sandwiches and snacks for now. Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait. He’s baking cornbread, too.”

“Why ain’t you fat?” Bill asked, poking him in the belly just as Gene and Babe’s ma returned from dropping her things in the guest room. 

“Alright,” his ma smiled, “why don’t you boys catch us up on everything we missed.”

“And feed us too!” Bill added.

* * *

Dinner was, indeed, worth the wait, just to see Bill shovel spoonfuls of spicy gumbo into his mouth while he alternated chugging water. “You alright?” Babe laughed.

Gene nudged him with a shoulder. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t the same.” He grinned across the table at their guests. “His face was covered in sweat. He kept eatin’, though.”

“It’s good!” Bill insisted. “Just hot. Damn Doc, you’re a great cook!”

Babe was amazed, but his ma seemed to handle it better than either Bill or he had. She just slowly ate through the whole bowl while Gene watched on cautiously. “Of course he’s a good cook.” She defended, without adding anything else. Babe rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t argue. She was right.

* * *

That night, as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, they sat out on the porch with cold beers and iced teas, simply content to catch up. Babe’s ma ( _“Cindy, remember Gene,” “Of course.”)_ told them about work at the hospital and how busy things had been lately. She gossiped about one of her neighbors, who she thought might be trying to grow a bit of pot in their tiny backyard. Babe snorted at that, remembering back to such a simple time. When those were the sorts of worries he’d had. Not that he had _many_ worries nowadays. Just _persistent_ ones. But they were for another time. He glanced toward his friend, who seemed to be caught up in wonder, or perhaps nostalgia, his nose working funnily as he breathed in the evening air.

“So what do ya guys do for fun around here?” Bill asked, finally coming back to himself.

Babe blushed and Bill squawked when he noticed, waving a hand and covering his eyes with the other one. “What?” Babe yelped, “I didn’t say nothin’!”

“I know what you were thinkin’!” Bill insisted. “I meant…ya know. When you go out. What do ya do for fun?” He seemed determined to get the conversation back again.

Babe didn’t even dare look at his ma, though he could tell by the smug energy rolling off of Gene that the other man was amused. “Well…I work at the bar,” Babe started. “I already said I’d take you guys one night.”

“Oooh, that would be so nice.” Babe’s ma cooed. “We could make an evening of it.”

Babe quirked a brow as he looked at Gene. Gene shrugged. “Sure.” Babe conceded. “Besides that, we don’t really…leave here, much. There’s always a lot to do.”

“We go fishin’ a lot.” Gene countered. He grinned at Bill. “I’ll take you.”

“Hell yeah, Doc. That’s great.”

“Just wait ‘til he wakes you up at dawn.” Babe snickered.

Gene rolled his eyes. “Not everyone sleeps as late as you.”

“Bill does.”

Bill snorted. “Some of us have got a bar to run, Babe. I’m up early enough. It won’t be a problem, Doc.”

Gene nodded easily and took a sip of his beer. “Alright.”

“And I can show you my garden!” Babe chirped at his ma, suddenly excited. “It’s doing great.”

“Oh, I’d love to see it.” She smiled and reached out her hand to him. He took it, happy to have her there. 

“Thing’s are pretty slow around here,” Gene said, “and we do things in our own time. I spend a lot of my day walkin’ and doin’ chores. Cookin’. And of course, tendin’ patients when they come by.”

Bill hummed suddenly, as if a thought just popped into his head. “You ever make any house calls, Doc? In a little place like this?”

Gene shrugged. “Not in a long time.”

Bill accepted the answer and then amused them with stories of Toye’s place. The Pack were still up to their usual shenanigans since the place had been rebuilt. Apparently the hunter Carwood Lipton worked there in the kitchen now. “Yeah, he’s been hangin’ around a lot. Poor guy. He really went through some shit, didn’t he?” Bill said, obviously before really thinking about it. When Babe flinched, though, Bill’s lips flattened into a grimace and he fixed his eyes on Babe. “Sorry, Babe,” Bill muttered. “Wasn’t thinkin’.”

“It’s alright.” Babe muttered. 

Gene reached out and laid his hand on Babe’s thigh. It was warm and strong and comforting. The simple weight grounded him and Babe took another sip of his beer, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

Suddenly, Babe’s ma perked up in her chair and pointed toward the swamp. “Oooh, what are those?” She whispered. “They can’t be fireflies, can they? They’re so big.”

Babe and Gene locked eyes for a second, torn between discomfort and amusement. Gene cleared his throat to explain, probably delicately, but Babe beat him to it. “They’re Will o’ Wisps, ma. A kind of spirit that likes to lead the unwary into the swamp and leave ‘em there.” He chuckled. “One of the first lessons I ever learned out here was not to follow ‘em, no matter what.”

Babe’s ma turned back to them, her eyes still wide with wonder. “Spirits?” She glanced between them and the swamp. “I guess you wouldn’t follow them, if you knew what they were, right?”

“They’ll call your name,” Gene murmured, his soft, lulling voice blending in with the warm, dark evening, “and use voices of people you know. Just…just don’t go into the swamp without Edward or me, alright?”

She looked back, eyes fixed on Gene as if she were seeing him a bit clearer than before. “Alright.”


	8. The Visit (Part II)

The golden rays of newborn sun leaking through the blinds and washing across the floor, edges just barely brushing along the quilt he and Edward lay under always gave Gene hope for the future. He lay there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the Bayou outside (birds calling, leaves rustling, a mosquito buzzing) mingling with the sounds of home (the beams of the house expanding and settling, the light hum of the antique fridge, and Edward’s soft, steady breathing at his side.) Gene rolled toward his best friend, his lover, his husband, and he ran the pads of his fingers gently over Edward’s forehead, brushing wisps of copper hair from his face. Edward wrinkled his nose and snuffled in his sleep. Gene grinned, utterly charmed and at peace. “Mornin’,” Gene whispered, lips soft against the side of Edward’s neck. “I love you.” Edward huffed now, and his eyes cracked open to stare blearily at Gene.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” He asked with a pout. “The sun comes up and you gotta let me know about it.” 

Gene chuckled, slightly embarrassed, and he moved to press his face back against Edward’s skin, but the other man caught him, hands framing his face. They stared at each other for a long moment in the otherwise still house and then Edward sighed and leaned up to kiss him. “I love you too, Gene.” Another soft brush of lips, and Gene suddenly regretted having to get up. He wanted to stay here forever, the rest of the world be damned, but he knew that he couldn’t, wouldn’t, because he had responsibilities. Later. There’d be time for this later. He’d make sure of it.

“Gonna go make some breakfast.” Gene murmured against Edward’s lips.

“Mmmm,” Edward moaned softly, nearly making Gene change his mind once again. “You always know the right thing to say.” Edward’s stomach growled and he chuckled. “What’re you making?”

“Beignets.”

Edward grinned up at him. “My hero.”

Bill was sprawled across the couch, half of his limbs hanging off, tangled in the quilt and hair a mess, when Gene wandered into the kitchen. He observed the werewolf with a smirk for a moment, half tempted to take a picture, before he decided that coffee (and giving Edward coffee) was more important. He moved around the kitchen quietly, bare feet barely whispering against the linoleum, hands moving on muscle memory alone.

Soon enough, the water had boiled and the kitchen was beginning to smell of fresh brewed coffee. Gene pulled the dough from the fridge and set the oil on to heat. As he continued to prep the workspace, he hummed softly to himself, enjoying the soft golden glow of early morning as it bathed his kitchen. 

He was nearly finished frying the first batch of beignets, the kitchen smelling of warm, sweet goodness, when he heard the floor creak tellingly and then suddenly there was a pair of warm, strong arms wrapping around his middle. Edward pressed against his back and nuzzled against his neck, pressing soft kisses at his nape. “Mornin’,” Edward mumbled, “for real this time.”

Gene chuckled and rolled his neck to the side so that Edward could kiss him there too. “Breakfast’ll be done soon.”

“God, you’re a saint, Gene, you know that?” The words were groaned against his neck and Gene shivered, half-pleased, half-rolling his eyes at Edward’s drama. 

“There’s coffee, too.”

“Perfect. You have some already?”

“Not yet.”

“Want me to make you a cup?”

“Nah. Gotta finish this first.”

A few moments later, Edward was back with his chin perched on Gene’s shoulder to watch him work. Gene really needed more space to maneuver than that, but he didn’t have it in him to ask Edward to move, so he did his best, reaching awkwardly as he scooped the puffed dough from the oil to cool before he sugared it. He stood waiting, spoon poised above the oil, when Edward offered his own mug of coffee and Gene took it with a huff, grateful for the sip. 

He almost choked, swallowing too much at once, when he noticed Cindy standing at the edge of the hallway, arms crossed and a soft smile on her face as she watched them. Gene’s cheeks burned with a blush and he suddenly felt very hot everywhere that Edward’s body touched his. Flustered, he patted Edward’s arm and turned to smile at Cindy, hoping she wouldn’t notice how embarrassed he was to be caught like this. “Mornin’.” He offered.

Edward suddenly realized his mother was present but instead of pulling away like Gene expected, he suddenly pressed a loud kiss to Gene’s cheek and squeezed his hips for a moment first. Then he unwound his arms and stretched like the oversize puppy Gene had always known he was and, yawning, said “Morning, ma!”

“Morning, boys,” she greeted, finally coming fully into the kitchen. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious, Gene.”

Gene couldn’t help blushing again. “Thanks. They’re beignets. My mama’s recipe.”

“She must’ve been a wonderful cook.”

Gene felt a pang in his middle but forced a smile. “She was. Taught me everythin’ I know about cookin’.”

By the time the beignets were done, Cindy sat at the table happily with a cup of coffee and Edward (tired of behaving himself) had gone to poke and prod at Bill before finally sitting on him to wake him up. Gene rolled his eyes as the two of them tussled in the living room, calling out sternly “Don’t break the furniture!” He settled the plate of beignets in the center of the table and settled next to Cindy. “Here we go. Help yo’ self.” 

“Ahh, goddamnit Bill, lemme go!” Edward whined from the living room floor. “Come on!”

“Say uncle, you little punk! Say it!”

“Stop bein’ an ass!”

“An ass?! You’re the one who SAT ON ME!”

Cindy snorted next to Gene as she nibbled on a beignet. “Some things never change.”

Gene shook his head. “I’m sure. Don’t know how you handled the whole Pack all this time.”

She quirked a brow at him. “Probably the same way you have--some patience, some temper, and a lot of food.” She cleared her throat and said “Edward Heffron! Bill Guarnere! You boys stop horsing around and come in here, or else Gene and I are gonna eat all the breakfast!”

“What?!” They both squawked, untangling themselves from each other and fumbling to straighten their clothes as they stumbled into the kitchen, chastened and afraid of starving.

She rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

* * *

After breakfast, Gene pressed a quick kiss to Babe’s temple and murmured, “Gotta go check the ward. I’ll see you all a bit later.” Babe watched him go, heart full of love and admiring the way Gene looked so confident and capable even in just a t-shirt and jeans. His ma caught him watching (of course she did) just like she’d caught him doing all sorts of other mushy things this morning. 

“So, Babe, what are we gonna get up to while he’s gone?” Bill asked.

Babe shrugged. “Figured we could take it easy. I could show you guys my garden once everyone gets around.” 

“Oh! Yes, that sounds like a great idea.” His ma rose, stretching. “I guess I’ll go get a shower and dress for the day, then. Alright?”

Babe nodded. “Sounds like a plan, ma.”

Once she’d disappeared into the bathroom, Babe turned back to Bill, finally alone with him for the first time. “Alright, spill.” Babe demanded, “What happened when you came down here last time?”

Bill quirked a brow at him and lazily scratched his stomach, which was fat from all the beignets he’d scarfed down. “What’re you worried about it for, huh? I came down and met the guy, we made an arrangement, and now you’re married to him.” Bill shrugged nonchalantly. “End of story.” 

Babe huffed. “Bill, I swear to Christ, if you don’t tell me, I’ll feed you to a--”

“Alright, alright,” Bill laughed, “keep your shirt on. Geez. It went like this.”

_ His father had been gone for less than a year and already they were feeling the pressure. Their associates kept knocking, asking for money, asking for favors, asking for Bill to do things that he’d never known his father had done. It was enough to drive anyone crazy, but it was especially hard when that guy had a moon cycle he had to contend with.  _

_ Bill always felt it, deep inside, pulling at his blood. The ebb and flow of the moon phases moving him and the others as surely as the tide. Today he was angry, because he’d gotten another call. Sal, from up First Street way, had called demanding that Bill pay him the money that his father owed. When Bill had insisted that he’d never seen or heard anything about a debt, the man had gotten a bit feisty and some words were exchanged. Some threats were exchanged. And Bill was just so goddamn tired. _

_ He’d gone to see Toye at the bar he’d been managing to see if he’d ever known anything about Sal. “No, I never heard nothin’, either.” See? Easy as that. Bill figured Sal for a liar, but what were they gonna do? Sal and his boys were half the muscle in this part of town and if he cut Bill out, they’d be screwed. _

_ “We need some help.” Bill decided. “I’m tired of these assholes tryin’ to push us around. Our fathers ran this neighborhood and now these guys think just because they’re gone that they can do what they want? Not on my goddamn watch.” _

_ “Yeah, and what’re we gonna do about it, huh? The full moon is comin’ up and I bet Sal knows about it, too.” _

_ “Shit.” Bill cursed. _

_ “Exactly. Unless you wanna kill the guy. I mean...I’m not sayin’ I’m opposed or anything, but don’t figure we really need a turf war right now.” _

_ And Toye was right. They didn’t need a turf war, but they didn’t need Sal’s snide remarks and outstretched hand either. So Bill went looking for help.  _

_ It just figured he’d find it in the form of a short, leprechaun-looking hunter. _

_ Apparently, Harry Welsh and his collection of hunters had known about the Philly wolves for years, maybe even generations. He’d known that the Guarneres and the Toyes had fought over the territory once, before Bill and Joe’s grandfathers, fresh from the War, had decided to put their differences aside for the sake of their werewolf brethren, and the two families had been running the streets of South Philly ever since. “Of course we know,” he’d chirped sarcastically into the phone, “wouldn’t be very good hunters if we missed something like that. But you guys are stable. Reliable. Plus your father always kept the other monsters out of the place, so we sort of...gave you all a pass.” Bill had had the pleasure of speaking to the man for the first time when he’d called to offer condolences for Bill’s father and to introduce himself to the new head of the Guarnere family. At first, Bill had been insulted that his father had never told him about the hunters, that persistent threat that was already breathing down any wolf’s neck, but in the end it hadn’t surprised him. Bill’s father had been a proud man and he’d handled his business in his own way. But it was Bill’s turn now, and he was going to handle things differently. So he went back home, pulled Harry Welsh’s number from where he’d stashed it away all those months ago, and given the man a call. _

_ “What do you want me to do about it?” Welsh asked. “Petty crime? Mafia politics? Not my kind of business.” _

_ “We need help.” Bill insisted. “It’s not just the Sal thing, alright? That’s just...just bullshit. Listen here. I look around my neighborhood and I see a whole lot of hardworkin’ families that been here for a long time. Good people. Men and women and children. People that my father took care of. People that I gotta take care of now. But we’re hobbled by the moon, goddamnit. I’d never change what I am--I’m a wolf and I’m proud of it, but these other punks like Sal? They know we have our weaknesses. They know that my people are vulnerable for days at a time before and after the full moon. They know they can do what they want, to whoever they want, and there’s nothin’ we can do about it like this. My father and Toye’s had their own way of dealin’ with it. But I want better for my people now. I want better for all of us. We deserve to live our lives in peace and take care of our families in the best way we can. So I’m askin’ you, in both of our interests, if you know anyone that can help me keep the peace here.” The line had gone so quiet for a moment after his speech that Bill nearly hung up, cursing his own foolishness for seeking help. But then Welsh had cleared his throat and said: _

_ “Alright. If you’re serious...I think I might know a guy. But you’d better be serious, Bill, cuz this guy doesn’t play around.” _

_ “I’m serious, alright? Couldn’t be any more serious if I tried. Now who the hell is this guy and how do I get in touch with him?” _

_ “You’re gonna have to get yourself down to Louisiana. He calls himself The Doc.” _

_ It was easy to beg off work for a few days and tell his family that he had to attend to “business” for a bit. Everyone was so used to the same from his father that they didn’t even question it. He told Toye that he was investigating a possible solution to their problem but didn’t give him any details, just in case this Doc guy couldn’t come through for them. Without thinking too hard on it, Bill got on a plane in Philly and stepped off in Baton Rouge. _

_ Bill was a werewolf, had been since the day he’d been born, so he was used to strange things, but still it caused a shiver to go down his spine as he made his way down the pot-holed, twisting road toward the desolate looking house in the middle of the swamp. “Goddamn Harry Welsh,” Bill muttered, “sending me out here to the goddamn middle of nowhere.” Still, he approached warily, with Welsh’s words still ringing in his ear “ _ Go alone, be respectful, and be ready to make a deal. _ ” _

_ The feel of the place, as Bill drew closer, made his skin crawl. He wanted to itch, like he had goddamn fleas or somethin’, and the dense, electrical feel in the air made him suddenly feel very small. _

_ Which was why he thought there’d been a mistake when he pulled up in front of the rickety old house and a young man in his early twenties sauntered out of the front door and met Bill as he climbed from the car. The look in the man’s dark eyes, though, assured Bill there’d been no mistake. “Bill Guarnere, I imagine,” the man had drawled. _

_ “You’re the Doc?” _

_ “I am.” _

_ Bill rubbed his hands together, nervous but determined. “Then I guess we should talk.” _

_ The Doc had given him a beer which Bill had taken warily (he didn’t want to offend some witch and end up a slug somewhere in the ass-end of Louisiana) and they sat on the porch to talk. “Tell me your troubles,” the young man had said, “Harry only mentioned.” _

_ So, cursing Harry Welsh one more time, Bill had told this swamp witch his problems. He’d told him how over the generations, his people had worked and fought and bled all over the same piece of Philly. He told him how he’d seen young lives wasted because if you were a wolf, you were chained to the moon and there was no way out. No other place to be, except for where your family knew and could care for you. How their fathers had gotten them tangled up in a mess of debt and violence and petty crime, and Bill wanted better than that for the kids he was now responsible for.  _

_ “So what would you do instead, then, if you didn’t have to shift if you didn’t want to?” Those dark eyes, sympathetic but firm, had caught Bill’s and held them. “What would you do if the moon couldn’t control you anymore?” _

_ Bill had thought back to the conversations he and Joe had had for years--of starting new businesses and bringing new crowds into South Philly. “I know a whole gang of guys, just teenagers, who are gonna need work. Honest work. We can start businesses. Revitalize the community. And we’ve got some kids back home who are real smart. Like  _ real  _ smart. They could probably go to college or somethin’, but...not if they’re afraid that they’ll shift and hurt someone. It’s been keeping ‘em stuck for generations.” _

_ The Doc had nodded, seeming to understand. “I think I know somethin’ that might help your troubles.” The man had drained his beer and set it aside. “I’m willin’ to make a pact with you. I’ll make you up a medicine, if I can, and keep your people supplied with it.” _

_ “And in exchange?” _

_ “I want your word. You need to promise me two things.” Bill gulped. “First--you need to keep your people outta trouble. No hurtin’ anyone--believe me, I’ll know if you do and there’ll be consequences.” The words sent a chill down Bill’s spine and all of the little hairs on the back of his neck stood up. “And second--I don’t want any wolves comin’ into my bayou. You’ll need to send a human courier to pick up yo’ stuff.” The witch held out a hand. “So. Do we have a deal?” _

_ Bill stared down at the hand, terrified to shake it, but more terrified not to. He took it, his palm tingling as he did so, wondering just what this might end up costin’ him. “We’ve got a deal.” _

“So then I went back home, told you I’d had a great vacation in Miami, and a month later, the Doc had our medicine ready for us. I kept my promise and never came back, until now, that is. Which is why I had to send your scrawny ass down here instead. Never thought you’d end up marrying the guy when I did that, but who can tell, huh?” Bill laughed, finishing his coffee. 

Babe stared at him as Bill sipped his coffee contently, torn between wanting to smack him all over again for keeping so much from him, or hug him for doing everything he had for the neighborhood. Babe swallowed thickly, thinking of the guys who’d gone to college and started successful careers, of his ma, who could live alone and still be safe in the neighborhood, of himself, who was married to the most amazing man in the world. All because Bill Guarnere had been too stubborn to accept their troubles lying down. 

* * *

By the time Babe’s ma had finished with her shower, Babe was ready to get some fresh air. He led her and Bill out to his garden patch behind the house. Rows of little plants were growing and Babe shooed away a rabbit as they approached the fenced area. “Oh, well this is cute.” His ma exclaimed as she hurried over to the gate and followed him in. “What are you growing?”

Babe blushed with pleasure. He’d never really grown anything before moving down here, but it gave him something to do and he was proud of every little sprout. “Eh, some vegetables on this side, mostly. But uh...also some strawberries for Gene. And some pumpkins in that corner.”

“Careful with the pumpkins--they crawl.”

Babe laughed. “That’s what Gene said. I guess I’ll find out.”

“What’s on this side?” His ma asked, wandering over to the right. 

“Some herbs for Gene. That way he doesn’t have to go trekking through the swamp for every little thing.”

His ma turned to him, smiling. “That’s nice of you.”

Babe ran a hand through his hair. They’d only been outside for ten minutes and already he could feel the sun warming his skin. In another ten, he’d start to burn. “Well, the guy won’t make his own life easier, so someone’s got to.”

His ma came to him, then, and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him. She laid her head on his shoulder. “It’s a lovely garden, Babe. I’m proud of you.” She squeezed him. “Are you happy?”

Babe had to hold back the sting of tears. Across the fence where he’d been loitering, Bill looked away. “Yeah, ma.” Babe assured her. “I’m happy.”

* * *

Gene returned, mud-streaked and sweaty, just before lunchtime. Babe rolled his eyes and called “I’ll make sandwiches while you grab a shower!” as Gene made his way to their bedroom.

“Alright!”

He emerged, freshly showered and smelling clean, just in time to eat. Babe and Bill carried ham sandwiches out onto the porch while his ma brought the lemonade. It was warm outside, but in the shade of the porch with cold drinks in their hands, it was nice. Gene settled next to Babe so that their knees brushed and they smiled at each other. Drops of water still clung to Gene’s hair and his white t-shirt hugged him nicely. Just as he had that morning, Babe almost wished again for a bit of alone time with the other man so he could peel his clothes right off of him. 

But of course, they weren’t alone. His mother sat on the other side of him, smiling as she sipped her lemonade and Bill stared across at him as if he could read Babe’s mind. Right.  _ Time to think of other things. _ Babe swallowed a bite of sandwich and cleared his throat. “I was thinking we could go to the bar to grab a bite to eat tonight. What do you guys think?”

“Hell, yeah!” Bill cheered, “Now I’ll finally get to see where you work down here. Measure it up to Joe’s place.”

Babe snorted. “It ain’t nothin’ like Toye’s, that’s for sure. But it’s work. And the food ain’t bad.”

“I’m excited to see where you work. Do you have friends there?”

Babe shrugged. “I dunno if I’d call ‘em friends, exactly, but my coworkers are nice enough.” His mom frowned.

Luckily, Gene’s smooth voice distracted Babe from the frown. “I ran into Mrs. Cormier while I was out and her daughter’s gonna need a salve as soon as I can get one done. Figured I’d start on it after lunch. Will you all be fine on your own if I’m occupied?”

“Sure,” Babe chirped. “You need help?”

Gene smiled and rested his hand on Babe’s arm for a minute. “I’ll be fine.”

Babe, Bill, and his ma spent the afternoon playing cards and bullshitting in the living room while Gene sat with his assortment of ingredients scattered around him at the kitchen table--it was frankly the most orderly way that Babe had seen him do things. Normally, he’d have everything spread out on the living room floor so that you had to pick your way around piles of herbs, but he supposed Gene was making the effort for the others. Every so often, Babe made his way to the kitchen for drinks and he’d stop and lean down to Gene with a gentle touch or a kiss, just to remind him that he was there, and ask if he wanted any help. As usual, Gene just shook his head and said that he had it covered--Babe should spend time with the others. Babe rolled his eyes every time, but did as Gene asked.

As the clock ticked down the day and the sun began to set, Bill set down his hand of cards and stretched, asking “So, what time were we gonna leave for dinner?”

Babe shrugged. “I’ll check.” He glanced over his shoulder to face the kitchen. “Hey Gene, what time did you want to leave to go to the bar?”

“Oh, uh…” Gene huffed and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll be finished up with this soon.” He looked up at them. “Why don’t the three of you head on over and I’ll catch up in a few minutes?”

Babe snorted. “Or we could just wait.”

Gene rolled his eyes. “I promise it’ll be fine. Besides, I’ll have to drop this off to Mrs. Cormier first. I don’t want to hold you all up. You know what I like. You can order for me.”

Babe’s ma opened her mouth to protest, but Babe just shook his head. He had more experience dealing with this level of stubbornness and he could see in the set of Gene’s jaw that this particular battle required negotiation.

“Alright. We’ll head out first and order. On one condition.”

Gene quirked a brow, amused now. “And what’s that?”

“That you have Mrs. Cormier meet us there to pick it up instead. No sense in you going all the way out there when she can come pick it up.”

Gene frowned, ready to argue, but at the tilt of Babe’s head, he relented. “Fine, Edward. You got yo’self a deal.”

Babe grinned. “Alright.” He turned to his ma and Bill. “You heard the man. Finish getting ready and we’ll head out.”

As his ma “changed into something a bit nicer” (Babe couldn’t help rolling his eyes fondly) Babe went to inspect Gene’s progress. “You promise you’ll only be a few minutes?” Babe murmured against his ear as he perched over Gene’s shoulder.

Gene turned to him, eyes soft, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I promise. Go on.”

“Fine.” Babe perched his hands on his hips. “But if you aint there after 15 minutes, I’m coming back to get you.”

Gene grinned. “Fair enough.”

* * *

A few cars already filled the parking lot when they arrived--a much busier crowd than usually showed up for lunch. Bill was already rubbing his hands and cackling in pleasure--imagining the food, beer, and women that he might find within--and Babe didn’t have the heart to burst his bubble. 

Babe led the way in and as soon as he’d entered, Stella, who was bartending that night, looked up and said “Hey Babe, what are you doing here? You’re off tonight!” Then she smiled. “Oh, is this your mother?” 

Babe grinned. “Yeah. Ma, this is Stella. Stella, this is my ma, Cindy. And my best friend, Bill. They’re visitin’ for a few days.”

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you. I hope you folks have a nice visit. Any family of Babe’s is always welcome here.” Babe smiled his usual friendly smile at Stella then guided them over to one of the four-top tables perched near the window. The server, a pretty brunette teenager named Molly, came over to greet them and smiled widely at Babe’s ma. 

“Hi! Thanks for stopping in tonight,” she greeted the others. Then “Hi Babe. How are you?”

“Doing alright, Molly. You?”

“Oh, you know. Slow so far, but it’s about to pick up. What can I get ya?”

Bill ordered a beer and his ma ordered an iced tea. Babe ordered a Coke then said “Oh yeah, and one for Gene, too. He’ll be joinin’ us shortly.”

A hush swept over the bar like a wave, complete and suffocating, but then it was gone as quick as it’d come. Molly smiled tightly. “Of course.”

Bill frowned but it was Babe’s ma who leaned forward and said “That was weird...what the hell was that about, Babe?”

Babe waved her off. “I’ll explain later.”

She frowned, too, and looked unsure for a moment, but eventually she leaned back in her booth next to Bill and said “Alright.”

Babe checked his phone (even though he couldn’t get much service down here, he still carried it because he hated wearing a watch) and noted that ten minutes had already passed.  _ Alright,  _ he thought to himself,  _ Gene has five more minutes before I go home and drag him outta there.  _

Turns out he didn’t need to, though, because just a couple minutes later that strange hush swept through the establishment again as Gene edged in through the door uncomfortably. He gazed around the bar, awkward and looking lost, until he found Babe’s eyes and then his own lit up and he grinned. Sound returned to the bar. As Gene carefully picked his way through the bar, an old man nodded at him and said “Evenin’, Doc.” A middle aged woman said “Evenin,” and Stella called “Nice to see you around, Doc.” Gene smiled and nodded his head toward them all, waving a quick hello, but Babe could see that he felt much better once he reached the table.

“Sorry it took so long,” he breathed as he settled, his dark eyes suddenly relieved. “Mrs. Cormier was so pleased I got it done that she met me in the parkin’ lot a moment ago. She sure does drive fast.” He grinned, reaching for his Coke. “You all order yet?”

“Yep. Cheese burgers and fries all around.” Babe smiled and laid his arm over the back of the booth. “So how’d it go?”

“What?” Gene asked, squinting up at him. “Oh, the salve? Just fine. Mrs. Cormier’s daughter’ll be feelin’ betta in a day or so.”

Babe knew that really meant she’d be feeling much better by morning. 

While they waited for their food, Babe entertained his family by telling them stories of working in the bar, some of which he had to exaggerate because it definitely never came close to the shenanigans of Toye’s, which he missed most days. 

During dinner, they had excellent service. Molly was very attentive, though at one point she nearly spilled Coke on Gene in her hurry to refill his glass. He smiled up at her patiently and thanked her anyway, and then she hurried away to do the rest of her tasks. 

Overall, dinner went well. The burgers weren’t bad and the company was good, so Babe almost managed to block out the rest, though he could still feel his mom’s eyes on him throughout the meal. Finally, on their way out to the parking lot, Bill said “Hey, I’ll ride back with the Doc--we’ve got some details about a fishin’ trip we’ve got to iron out.” And while that might be true, Babe knew Bill had decided to leave Babe and his ma alone for another reason.

They’d barely gotten the car doors shut when his ma turned to him and said “Explain.”

Babe sighed. Part of him was happy that his ma was riled up over the strange behavior, but the other part of him was just exhausted at having to explain it. He opened his mouth, thought about what he wanted to say, then shut it again. His ma filled in the blanks herself. “Is it because the two of you are together?”

Babe shook his head. “Nah, it ain’t that. At least, no one’s ever said or done anything about it if they  _ do  _ have a problem with it.”

“So, what, then?”

Babe sighed. “The people around here are nice enough. They’re friendly. You saw that.”

“Yes, I was thinking that was the Southern hospitality I’ve always heard of. At first.”

“No, not really. It’s because of Gene.”

“But they acted so strange, even when you just said his name!”

“They respect him, ma. They do. Which is why they treat me and the rest ‘a you so nice--because we’re his family. That’s about respect. But...most of ‘em are afraid of him, too. So even if they did have a problem with us bein’ together, none of ‘em would ever be brave enough to say it. They’re afraid of him, ma, that’s what that was. And we do our best to ignore it and try to change it, but that’s how it is.”

Babe chanced a glance at his mother and she looked utterly confused, which was a balm to Babe’s poor, bruised heart. “They’re afraid of  _ Gene _ ? But he’s such a nice boy. And I thought he was their doctor. He takes care of them, doesn’t he?”

“He is.” Babe agreed. “And he does. But he’s got a lot of history here, ma. And, well...sometimes people are just afraid of things they don’t understand.”

His ma was quiet for a few minutes and then “That has to be hard for him.”

“It is.” Babe agreed, nodding. His hands were tight on the steering wheel.

“Well,” his ma said, huffing, “I’m glad he has you, then.” She glanced at him and he could feel the weight of her eyes on the side of his face. “And he knows he has the rest of us too, right?”

Babe smiled softly. “He knows.”

His ma nodded, satisfied. “Good.”


	9. The Visit (Part III)

Bill blinked awake in the dark living room and he squinted, trying to discern what had woken him. He startled when he realized that the Doc stood just at the foot of the couch, grinning wickedly at him. “Rise and shine, Bill,” Gene intoned, “we got fish to catch.”

Bill ran a heavy hand down his face and wondered what in the hell had possessed him into accepting the Doc’s fishing invitation. Oh, right... the guy was practically his brother in law now, so he’d better get used to doing things like this. And anyway, he knew that Babe would want a bit of alone time with his ma, so this morning, Bill Guarnere was 100% at Gene Roe’s mercy. He had to stop himself from groaning as he levered himself up from the couch and pulled his jeans on over his boxers. “What should I bring?” He asked.

Gene shrugged. “Just yo’self. I got everythin’ else already packed in the boat.”

“Alright. Give me a minute, huh? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Sure thing.” 

Bill peed, brushed his teeth, then looked in the mirror for a minute and reminded himself that today was going to be fun. 

Gene was waiting for him on the porch. Everything around them was still a deep blue, but Bill could practically  _ feel  _ the dawn approaching. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Babe that he was up early enough nowadays. It was a lot of work, helping Toye run the bar, doing all the paperwork for the Pack’s businesses, checking in on the other boys and their families, calling up the kids who’d managed to go off to college and making sure they had what they needed, that they were staying on top of their grades. Most people never really knew how much Bill did in a day, but it didn’t matter much to him. Recognition wasn’t why he did it. The Philly Pack was strong now. Strong and capable and successful. Bill was proud of that.

Gene motioned with his chin and Bill followed him out behind the house, down a sloping path that led to the river. “Huh,” Bill said, as they emerged out onto a dock where a boat was tied, “I never realized how close you actually live to the river.”

Gene bobbed his head as he climbed gracefully into the boat. “Yep. All my life.”

Bill eyed the small boat warily but managed to step down into it without pitching over the side. So, despite Gene’s grin, Bill was gonna call it a success. Tucked into the boat with them was a cooler, a thermos, a large bucket, a tackle box, some rods, and a sketchy lookin’ can of  _ something  _ that smelled so rank to Bill’s sensitive nose that he just  _ knew  _ he didn’t wanna know what it was. “So, how are we doin’ this, Doc?”

Gene shrugged as he untied the boat and pushed them away from the dock before he settled himself down next to the motor. “Gonna head out a bit to a good place I know. Here,” he said, handing Bill the thermos as he started up the motor, “I brought us some coffee to get us started.”

“Hallelujah,” Bill praised, twisting the cap off to take a deep drink of the hot, heavenly brew. “You’re a saint, Doc.”

Gene snorted. “Hardly.” Then the boat started moving.

Bill allowed his eyes to wander, taking in the admittedly beautiful, if very foreign, scenery. The river bank was crowded with large old trees that dripped Spanish moss. Reeds of all kinds grew out into the water and formed strange little pockets. But the water was dark and there was no telling how deep it was, or what was in it. 

Bill had expected the morning to be quiet, but the bayou had already been humming with life before Gene started the motor. Birds sang and dove toward the water--a couple larger ones strode through the shallows, plucking small fish out with their beaks. Frogs croaked, mosquitos hummed, the river itself spoke in low, burbling tones and slapping sounds as it struck the muddy banks and as the boat sliced through it. “You and Babe do this a lot?” Bill asked.

Gene shrugged. “Whenever I can manage to get him up this early,” he admitted honestly, “but I go out a lot. There’s a lot of good eatin’ to be had from the river, if you know how to catch it,” Gene added, “but I also just like to come out here in the early hours and think for a bit. It’s soothin’.”

Bill bet it was. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be this man, and frankly he didn’t want to. Bill understood responsibility, but to always be giving of oneself for others? To always be at the beck and call of the tired, of the injured, of the sick? To put yourself between a whole lot of people and the forces of darkness? And on top of all that, to be so powerful that most people feared you? No thanks. Bill couldn’t imagine a life like that. He respected the hell out of the Doc, but he could never do what he did. 

In the last year, Bill had gotten to know the Doc a lot better than he’d ever thought he would. Bill had never imagined, when he sent Babe down here that first time, that his best friend in the world would form such a connection with the terrifying swamp witch who Bill had made a pact with for the betterment of his people. But in the time that they’d known each other, Gene had kept his word and maybe because of Babe, or maybe because of who he was, Gene had been willing to stick his neck out for them when they’d needed him most. When Babe had first admitted that he and Gene were friends, Bill had thought it strange, but not  _ that  _ strange. Babe could make friends with anybody, after all. But after Bill had seen them in the room together, he’d known that Babe had  _ under-represented  _ their relationship. It had been obvious, from the moment the Doc stepped into Toye’s bar, that he had feelings for Babe. Bill had watched how the witch’s eyes had focused on the red-head, how they tracked him across the room and softened whenever Babe laughed. 

In the last year, Bill knew this man--this terrifying, strange, but good man--had turned his life and the world upside down in the name of Babe Heffron. He loved Babe, that was obvious, and he took care of him, also obvious. That meant, despite whatever else the Doc might be, he was good in Bill’s book.

Eventually, Gene stopped the boat and handed Bill a rod with a hook already attached. “Alright. You know how to do this?” Gene asked. He pushed the sketchy looking can toward Bill.

“What the hell’s in there?”

“Bait.” Gene shrugged.

“It smells terrible.” Bill grumbled as he opened the can then wished he hadn’t. He glared up at Gene while the man laughed at him. “My nose is better than yours!” 

Gene snorted. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Despite the bad smell of the bait, Bill had to admit that it was pretty relaxing to fish off the side of the boat with good company while the sun turned the sky all sorts of colors. “So.” Gene started. “The Pack’s good? Y’all have what you need?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah, we’re good, Doc. Things have picked up since we rebuilt Toye’s.”

“You said Lipton works there now?”

“Yeah. Wasn’t thinkin’ when I mentioned it before.”

Gene nodded. “I didn’t know him very well, but I hope he’s able to find some sort of peace after what he went through.” Gene sighed. “Edward still blames himself for a lot of it.”

“Which is stupid.” Bill said, reeling in his line a little.

Gene bobbed his head. “I think he knows that, logically, but it don’t stop him.”

Bill cleared his throat. “How is he? Really?”

Gene sighed. “He’s still strugglin’ with everything that happened to ‘im. I know it still hurts him, but he don’t like talkin’ about it with me. He still feels guilty about what that demon did ta me.” Gene closed his eyes. “He has nightmares, sometimes. I’ve asked him about talkin’ to someone about it, and he said he is.”

“Who? The kid get a counselor or somethin’?”

“Somethin’.” Gene agreed. “He talks to Renee, I think.”

“Renee?”

Gene nodded. “She’s a spirit that dwells around here. I’ve known her all my life. She’s a friend.” He coughed lightly. “She helped me to get Edward back.”

Bill couldn’t help shivering. He’d never get used to the things that the Doc took for granted. “She a good person to talk to?” In the end, Bill supposed that was the important bit, after all.

Gene nodded. “She’s always helped me before, when I needed it.”

Bill rolled that answer around in his mind for a bit. He knew the Doc had lived alone for a long time. Had this spirit been his only companion? The thought made him feel suddenly very sad. “I worry about him.” Bill admitted.

Gene sighed. “Me too.” He lifted dark eyes to Bill’s. “There’s some things that I just can’t...fix. It’s frustratin’.”

“Yeah.”

The sun eventually rose and turned the water a pinkish gold. Gene opened the cooler and pulled out sandwiches he’d prepared for them. They ate in companionable silence, passing the coffee thermos back and forth while they did their best to catch supper. 

When Gene pulled his second fish from the dark waters, Bill huffed in annoyance. “How do you do that?” He asked. He still hadn’t caught anything yet. “You and I have our poles on opposite sides of this boat and yet you’ve caught two and I haven’t gottten so much as a bite.”

Gene shrugged. “Luck, I guess.” He smirked up at Bill and re-baited his line. 

“Show off,” Bill grumbled.

Gene laughed.

His rod had been still for so long that Bill frowned, confused, for a minute when he felt a tug on his line. “What the…” He grumbled, then he leaned forward, grinning as he realized what it meant. “Hey!” He exclaimed, jerking his line to set the hook. “I got a bite!” He began reeling the line in, feeling a respectable amount of resistance on the other end. He whistled. “He’s a fighter, this one!” He glanced over at Gene to find the other man watching him, his cheeks going pink in the sun. “Papa’s gonna bring home supper tonight!” Bill crowed, happy as he continued to reel. Gene snorted behind him.

Finally, Bill caught a flash of silver in the muddy water and he raised the pole so that the fish, a bass, danced in the air above the water. With a huge grin, Bill leaned forward to grab it but then suddenly the water exploded in front of him and a huge, dark shape torpedoed up, massive jaws wide open and snapping. Bill yelped and tumbled back, rod, fish, and all, his feet scrambling to get as far from the leaping gator as he could. “Fuck!” He screamed, as he practically crawled on top of Gene to get away from the thing. The gator splashed down in the water. “Move!” Bill cried, “Get us outta here!” Gene fumbled behind himself for the motor and then suddenly they were splashing through the water, leaving that spot behind.

Bill realized his hands were shaking in the same moment he realized the Doc was laughing at him. Bill turned to glare at the other man. “You’re laughing?!” Bill hollered, still royally freaked out. “Damn near just got my hand taken off by a goddamn alligator, and you’re laughing!” Bill cursed again but Gene just laughed harder. Bill stared at him, bewildered and terrified. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that?” Bill finally huffed. “Livin’ out here with those goddamn things.” He shook his head. Finally, he found himself laughing too. “That thing was bigger than I am!” He felt tears spring to his eyes as he chuckled some more. He pointed at the Doc, whose eyes were wet from tears. “Crazy son of a bitch.” 

Bill was a big enough man to admit that he lost his stomach for fishing after the gator incident. And even though Gene kept laughing at him, he graciously turned the boat back towards the friendly dock of home. Bill’s legs felt like jelly as he stood from the boat and helped the Doc haul their things back to the house. The further they got from the water, the better Bill began to feel.

Inside, they found Babe and his ma sitting at the kitchen table with cups of coffee and smiles on their faces. “The fisherman have returned!” Cindy announced.

Babe turned toward them with a grin. “You guys catch anything?”

“Some,” Gene said, snorting. “Bill--tell ‘em about the one that got away.”

Bill turned a glare on the Doc and pursed his lips for a moment before casting his eyes back to the table. “I nearly got my arm taken off by a goddamn alligator!” He bellowed, still terrified and outraged all at once. “And the whole time, this son of a bitch is laughing his head off behind me!”

Cindy’s eyes grew wide and concerned, but Babe only snorted. “I warned you about ‘em,” he admonished. Then he cracked a grin and cackled a bit, too. “Bet it was funny, though.”

“Both ‘a you are nuts!” Bill whined. “He wasn’t even scared! Just kept laughin’!”

Babe rolled his eyes at Bill then smirked up at Gene. “Of course he did.” Babe shook his head. “He likes gators. Stitched one up once, and everything.”

Bill turned incredulous eyes on the Doc but the other man simply shrugged, sunburnt and smirking.

Bill shook his head. “Fuckin’ crazy.” He muttered. He slumped into a chair at the table, his head in his hands. A moment later, Gene thumped a beer in front of him. Bill figured it was as close to an apology as he was gonna get, and anyway, he needed a drink. He twisted the top off then took a deep swig of the cool beer. Shaking his head, he finally chuckled, looking around at the others. “The boys are never gonna believe this.”

  
  


* * *

They’d just finished up lunch when a car honked in the drive and then a moment later, someone was banging frantically on their front door. Gene rose quickly from the table, chair screeching back, and he hurried to pull the door open. A sandy-haired woman rushed a teenage boy (pale face, dark hair, ratty clothes) forward and babbled, “Doc, can you help us? Please? He was outside workin’ and he cut himself somethin’ terrible.”

The boy, trembling and pale, was clutching his arm tight to his body and Babe realized in that moment that it was wrapped in a towel which was stained a dark red. Gene set his jaw grimly and nodded, motioning toward the couch. “Go ahead and sit yo’self here,” Gene directed. The boy shakily lowered himself to the couch and Gene sat next to him, turned to face him. “I need to touch yo’ arm, alright?” The boy nodded, lips pressed tight together against the pain. “You keep that towel in place for a moment.” Gene laid his hands on the boy’s arm and closed his eyes. Babe had seen Gene do this so many times, but it always still amazed him. He always wondered what exactly it was Gene saw. Suddenly, Gene’s eyes found his across the room. “Edward--we need bandages, alright?”

“Yeah, Gene.” Babe hurried to the bathroom where Gene kept their extra medical supplies stocked and he pulled out a few rolls of gauze bandages. He turned but found his ma blocking the way, looking worried. 

“Babe...we have to get that boy to a hospital. With how much he’s bleeding--he’s gonna need stitches at least, if not surgery.”

Babe shook his head. “No time.” He gently pushed past his mother and returned to the living room where he set the bandages down on the cleared coffee table within Gene’s reach. He was holding the boy’s arm in both his hands now and the kid’s lip was trembling.

“Babe,” his ma hissed at his shoulder as she watched the blood continue to soak through the towel.

Babe gently grabbed her by her shoulders and pulled her back with him. “Ma,” Babe whispered soothingly, “Gene’s got this. I promise. Just watch.”

She stared up at him worriedly but nodded, biting her lip, and turned back toward the patient and doctor. 

Gene’s hands held the boy’s arm firmly between his own, applying pressure to the wound and his lips moved with whispered prayer. Above them, the light flickered just briefly. Babe’s ma cast her eyes up to the ceiling before turning back to watch the miracle. 

Gene continued to pray over the boy for twenty minutes. Twenty long minutes, and Babe knew that his ma was counting each minute as a moment lost to them to get more help, to suture him up, to drive him to a hospital. Babe couldn’t blame her for her nervousness--she was a nurse, after all, and she was used to workin’ in the ER. She knew what this sort of wound led to. But she’d never seen Gene work. 

After the twenty minutes, Gene finally opened his eyes and asked “Bandages?” Babe hurried forward and handed one to Gene. “Okay, we’re gonna take this towel off now, so I can see, alright?” The boy nodded stiffly, brave through his fear. “Hey now, you gon’ be okay, I promise, alright?” His voice was as soothing as it always was when he was taking care of someone and Babe’s heart swelled at the sound. Gene gently unfolded the towel from around the boy’s arm and slowly took a look. A deep, jagged cut had torn the boy’s forearm, but it was barely bleeding now. A few drops welled to the surface. “See now, it ain’t that bad.” Gene murmured. Without taking his eyes off the kid, he said to Babe, “Edward--we’re gonna need that salve. You remember--the one I sent you? Top a’ the cabinet, brown jar.” Babe fetched it dutifully and deposited it into Gene’s warm hand. “There now,” Gene said, gently lowering the boy’s arm to his knee so that he could use his hands. “See this? This is gonna heal you right up. You watch close, huh?” Gene dipped his fingers into the salve and scooped some out before he lathered it on the boy’s wound. “This amount. Twice a day. And you re-wrap it in clean bandages each time.” After he’d spread the salve on the boy’s arm, Gene gently wrapped the gauze around the arm and secured it. 

The boy looked up at him, swallowing thickly. “Th-thanks, Doc.” He murmured. “How--how long?”

“Cut like that? It might take a couple days to finish healin’, but it shouldn’t bleed no more. If it does, you come on back. But if you follow my instructions, you’ll be fine soon enough.”

The boy’s mother shuffled forward then, and laid her hands on her son’s shoulders. “Will he--will he have full use of the arm?”

Gene nodded. “In a few days, he’ll be right as rain. ‘Til then, he shouldn’t use it too much, though, or it might scar.”

The woman nodded gratefully, tears springing to her eyes. “Thank you, Doc. Thank you.”

Gene rose to his feet and Babe caught the hint of a tired sway. The teenager followed him, still pale and shocked. “Of course,” Gene smiled soothingly. “You take care now, ya hear? Take these other bandages with you.”

After the door closed behind the mother and son, Gene collapsed back onto the couch, eyes fluttering. “How bad?” Babe asked. “You need a nap?”

“Nah,” Gene shook his head. “Just a...a cup a’ that tea, Edward. I’ll be alright.”

“You sure?”

Gene nodded. “Yeah. Cut wasn’t that bad.”

Babe saw his ma’s lips pinch tight, worried again. He wondered what was going through her head right now. 

Babe busied himself making the tea in the kitchen and marveled that Bill had been so quiet throughout the whole ordeal, content to simply sit back and watch. But then again...Bill had a better idea of what Gene was...what he was capable of. After the tea had steeped, Babe brought it back into the living room where he found his ma and Bill still watching silently while Gene had settled back into the couch with his eyes closed. “Thought you didn’t need a nap.” Babe said as he settled next to the man.

Gene cracked a dark, tired eye open and said “Don’t sass me, Edward.”

Babe smirked and handed the tea over. “Here. It’s hot.”

Gene nodded but took a sip anyway then sighed. “Thanks.” He smiled at Babe then turned his eyes toward the others, brows pinching, at a loss for words.

Babe’s ma gulped then asked “Is that what it’s always like?”

Gene shrugged uncomfortably. “Sometimes it’s betta, sometimes it’s worse. Today was pretty typical, I guess.”

“That boy needed stitches.” His ma said. “Maybe even surgery.”

“Woulda.” Gene agreed.

His ma shook her head. “But you just….” Another shake. “That’s what you do?”

Gene stared back at her, and Babe felt a slight tremble go through the man as he said “That’s what I do.” Babe wondered how much it cost him to say it, what he thought he might lose this time. He’d already lost so much.

But whatever he expected, it wasn’t what happened. Babe’s ma rounded the coffee table, and slowly, carefully, cupped Gene’s face in her hands and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. Babe watched the man’s eyes flutter shut and his shoulders relax. His ma had tears in her eyes when she pulled back and she said “Gene, honey, you’re an angel.”

Babe’s ma followed him back to the bathroom again when he went to tidy the supply cabinet. She closed the door quietly behind them and Babe raised his eyebrows at her. She shook her head. “That’s why they’re afraid of him, isn’t it? Because he can do that.”

Babe nodded. “That, among other things, yeah.”

Her eyes were still wide with shock, or maybe wonder. “That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. He healed that boy with his bare hands.”

Babe smiled. “That’s Gene for ya.”

His ma snorted. “Will he be okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll be fine. He just needs ta rest.” Babe shrugged. “Used to be, if he did a healing like that, he’d be out for a couple hours after, at least. But, uh...ever since...well. For a while now, it takes more than that to knock him out. He’ll drink his tea, I’ll feed him something, and he’ll probably go to sleep a bit early tonight. Tomorrow he’ll be good as new.”

“This is what the two of you do here. He helps them. You help him.”

Babe shrugged. “Sometimes, yeah. I mean...it’s not all we do. But...it’s always been a big part of his life. So it’s a big part of mine, now, too.”

“And...are you okay with that? It’s a lot, Babe.”

“It is,” Babe admitted. “But uh...yeah, I’m okay with it. I’m happy.”

His ma hugged him then, nice and tight. “I don’t know how the two of you found each other, but I’m glad you did.”

* * *

That evening, Gene, stubborn as he was, still insisted on making dinner. “Gonna make my blackened fish and rice,” Gene explained patiently, “had it planned out all day. I’m  _ fine,  _ Edward.”

Babe rolled his eyes but relented. He knew when to give in. His ma, apparently, did not, though. She sat at the table watching Gene as he began to prepare the ingredients and she asked “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Gene smiled kindly at her. “I ‘preciate it, but you're our guest. You don’t need ta trouble yo’self.”

His ma shook her head, though, and said “A guest? I won’t hear of that, Gene. You’re not a guest when you’re family.” She rose and said “What can I do to help?”

Gene smiled, quietly pleased, and asked her to clean the rice. 

When Babe left them, they were standing shoulder to shoulder, murmuring and chuckling, and Babe swore his heart swelled up to twice its size.

He found Bill waiting for him out on the porch with a couple of beers. “Got time for a walk?” Bill asked.

“Sure.” Babe reached out and took one of the bottles. “They seem like they’ve got dinner covered in there.”

Bill nodded.

They made their way halfway down the drive before Bill finally cleared his throat and, in a very un-Bill-like move, said “I’m worried about ya, Babe.”

Babe halted mid-stride and turned to look at Bill. “What for?”

Bill heaved a sigh and stopped as well. He turned worried eyes on his friend. “It’s been a crazy year, Babe. And I worry that you’re sort of...not coping.”

Babe rolled his eyes. “I’m  _ fine,  _ Bill. See?” He spread his arms out. “I been good the whole time you’ve been here. What makes you think I’m not?”

Bill snorted. “Because I know you better than anyone else in the world, for one.” He reached forward and jabbed a finger into Babe’s chest. “You’re tryin’ too hard.”

Babe felt a sick curl in his stomach and his shoulders went tight. “Leave it, Bill.”

“Nope.” Bill said, shaking his head. “Can’t.” He squared his own shoulders, as if preparing for a fight. “You’re my best friend in the whole world, Babe. You’re a brother to me. I ain’t leavin’ Louisiana ‘til I know you’re gonna be okay.”

Babe snorted, suddenly tasting the tang of pain and bitterness at the back of his throat. “ _ Okay? _ Okay’s not exactly easy, Bill.”

“I know that. You’ve been through a lot.”

“You mean bein’ possessed by a demon? Bein’ forced to torture another person and bein’ helpless to stop it? Or did you mean dyin’ and turnin’ into a vampire? Or the months of agony it took to turn me back? Or what about watching, helpless and horrified, as I plunged a knife into the man I love? You know I can still feel his blood on my hands some nights.” Babe laughed bitterly. “So which thing are ya talkin’ about, Bill?”

Bill clenched his jaw. “All a’ that.”

“I’m coping.” Babe insisted.

“How? You moved out to Louisiana, away from all of your friends. Don’t have anyone out here, ‘cept for the Doc.”

“Don’t bring him into this.” Babe hissed.

“He’s a part of it, though, ain’t he? You’re coverin’ up all of your shit with takin’ care of him, now. I don’t think it’s healthy.”

Babe snorted again. “And who the hell are you? Dr. Phil? Since when did you get a psych degree, Bill?”

“Hey,” Bill barked, “I know some things about grief and trauma, alright? And I know it ain’t easy. But pushing it aside and isolatin’ yourself ain’t gonna help. You gotta get it out, Babe. That’s the only way to deal with it.”

“I am.” Babe growled.

“Then talk to me.”

Babe stared at Bill for a long, hard moment, but eventually his shoulders slumped and he released a long breath. “It ain’t easy.”

“I know.”

“Where should I start?”

“Wherever you want, Babe.”

And so that’s how Babe spent nearly an hour pouring his heart out to Bill, crying and admitting that he still had nightmares some nights where he was still possessed by that demon, where he could still feel and taste Gene’s blood on his hands and lips. How he  _ did  _ feel lonely and scared, and it was hard out here without any real friends, and the mosquitos sucked and it was always too hot. And how he hadn’t been the same since Nix had turned him into a vampire. How parts of Babe weren’t quite...human, still. How sometimes he felt like he carried two heartbeats, or that he could hear another’s echo, and how he always worried about the other ex-vampire, even if it was just at the back of his mind. How he worried about Gene too, and how much he always gave without getting much back in kind. How the people in Bayou Chene still looked at them funny wherever they went because of who Gene was. How hard every single bit of that was to carry sometimes.

“But I  _ am  _ coping.” Babe insisted. “Look, it ain’t perfect, and it ain’t easy, but I’m not...I’m not letting it get me, either, alright? I talk to Renee sometimes. She’s a good listener. She’s a friend...sort of. And I planted a garden, because it makes me feel better to make something grow. To remind myself that my hands are good for creating things. And yeah, I miss you and ma and the guys, but I’m gonna come back for a visit again real soon. But the demon thing? And the vampire thing? I don’t know if I’ll ever really be over it, Bill. If I’m bein’ honest. I don’t know if it works like that. They were both just...too much, ya know? But Nix and Dick are gonna come for a visit, soon, and Nix and I will have some time to talk some things out. I think he’s just as confused as I am. They’re good people, though, and it’ll be nice to have ‘em here. We’ve missed ‘em.” Babe took a long, deep breath, then let it out. “And Gene, well...I need ya ta understand, Bill. He’s stubborn and frustrating, and he lets people take advantage of him--and he knows it. The weather sucks. I hate the damn mosquitos. And I’m terrified of gators, too. But meeting Gene? It’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Bill. I mean that, 100%. The rest of that bullshit? It’s worth it if I get to have this. If I get to come home to him every day. I know it sounds mushy as hell, but...I love him, Bill. I really do. And he loves me, too. And I’d never regret followin’ him anywhere.” Babe squared his shoulders. “So right now? I might not be okay. But I will be, alright? Give me time.”

Bill rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and pretended like the wetness wasn’t tears. “Was that so hard?” He asked.

Babe gaped then shoved him. “Asshole.”

Bill chuckled and bumped their shoulders together as they continued their walk. “I’m glad to hear you’re figurin’ things out, Babe.” Bill admitted. “But you know you still have me, too, right? If you ever need anything.”

Babe sniffed and gave his friend a watery smile. “I know, Bill. Thanks.”

Bill nodded resolutely. “Anytime.”


	10. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a 4 month long hiatus, I am back :) Have some fluff.

“Hey, someone come help me with this,” Gary called from the door where it was half-propped open by his shoulder.

Babe frowned but tossed down his dish towel and hurried around the bar to grab the door. They were a half hour away from opening for lunch, but that sort of thing never did seem to mean much around here. “What’s up?” Babe called, reaching the door and propping it open.

“Thanks,” Gary grunted, hauling a large box through and into the bar. He heaved it over to one of the tables before setting it down gently.

“What’s that?” Babe wondered, wandering over. “Stella didn’t say we were  expectin ’ anything.”

Gary smirked up at him. “ Stella’d probably kick my ass for this, but I figured here was as good as any place to bring ‘em.”

“Bring what?”

“Look,” Gary urged, as he leaned forward and peeled a corner of the box back.

Wary now, Babe inched forward and peered down into the box. “Oh my god!” He gushed. Inside, three kittens curled together and stared up at the opening. “Where’d they come from?”

“Found ‘ em in a box behind the gas station. Not sure if someone abandoned ‘ em or if their mother left ‘ em or what. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave ‘ em there.”

“So you brought ‘em here? What for?”

Gary smirked. “ So I could show ‘ em around to saps like you and hope you’d take ‘ em home.”

“Hey,” Babe griped, ruffled at being called a sap (even if Gary was right.) “Anyway, I’d love to, but... I can’t.”

Gary snorted. “Why not?”

_ Why not?  _ Well, now that Babe said the words, he wasn’t exactly sure why not. He supposed it was a reflex. His whole life, he’d wanted a pet but his ma had always told him no, that he wasn’t mature enough, that she didn’t have time to take care of it when he inevitably forgot to. And  so he’d never had one. And he supposed he’s just...assumed...that Gene felt the same. But he didn’t really know that, did he? Of course, Gene didn’t  _ have  _ any pets (at least that Babe had seen and  _ no,  _ he absolutely refused to accept a gator as a pet) but maybe that didn’t mean much. Maybe Gene was just too busy to look after one. Maybe he wouldn’t care if  _ Babe  _ had a pet instead. “Uh... I’d have to talk to Gene about it.”

Gary rolled his eyes which actually made Babe snort because one, was he trying to  _ convince  _ Babe or insult him some more? But two, that was a pretty ballsy move when it came to Gene and Babe could respect that, if nothing else. He figured most people around here would’ve said something along the lines of “Oh, yes, of course.” Or “Why not ask him, then?” But instead, Gary opened the top of the box the rest of the way and said “ Ain’t you a grown man?” Which, yeah...okay. “Go on, take a look.”

And how was Babe supposed to say no to that, with three sets of eyes staring up at him curiously. When he reached into the box, the black one and the grayish one drew back from him, but the little striped ginger in the center reached up toward him with his tiny, needle-sharp claws and Babe knew he was a goner already. It was love at first sight as he plucked the kitten from the box and held him so he could see him more clearly. “You’re adorable, aren’t you?”

The kitten reached out for him again and Babe pulled it close to his chest. The kitten immediately curled up and began to purr. It was so small and warm and soft in Babe’s hands. It was perfect. “Fuck,” Babe sighed, gazing down at the kitten, “guess I’m a dad now.”

Across the table, Gary laughed at him.

* * *

“Hey Gene?” Babe called as he pushed open the front door, cupping his tiny little passenger against his chest. “Gene? I, uh, I  gotta talk to you!”

“Edward?” Gene called, “I’m in the bedroom, hold on.” A minute later, Gene wandered down the hall, brows furrowed in concern. “What is it? You alright?”

“Yeah,” Babe assured. “Yeah, a’course. I’m fine.”

“Alright.” Gene nodded. “What is it?”

“Uh...” Babe swallowed and then grasped the kitten in both of his hands and held it out toward Gene. “Surprise.”

Gene stared at the kitten blankly for a moment, as if he struggled to identify what it was. Then he glanced back up at Babe, brows still furrowed. “A kitten?”

“Uh...yep. A kitten.”

“What’re you doin’ with it?”

Babe laughed nervously and shifted on his feet. “I uh...sort of adopted it.”

Gene’s brows jumped. “You adopted it.”

Another nervous chuckle. “Yep. I...uh...I did.” Gene continued to just stare at him, and Babe could feel himself beginning to sweat. He felt like a naughty kid who’d just brought a toad into a kitchen or  somethin ’. And Gene just looked confused. “Aw, come on, Gene! Look at him!” Without waiting for a response, Babe moved forward and shoved the kitten at Gene. The other man reached up reflexively and grasped the kitten in his strong, capable hands. 

The kitten mewed and took a swipe at Gene’s thumb before it settled in his hands contentedly. Gene snorted. “It looks like you.”

Babe rolled his eyes but grinned. “See? It was meant to be, then.”

Gene sighed like a man who carried the world on his shoulders, but Babe could see right through him. The corner of Gene’s lips had begun to quirk. “Where’d he come from?”

“Gary brought him and his siblings into the bar this afternoon. Found ‘ em abandoned behind the gas station.”

Gene’s eyes softened, then, just as Babe knew they would, as he shifted into caretaker mode. “What happened to the others?”

“Phyllis adopted one and a little girl and her parents claimed the other. I, uh... mighta called dibs on this little guy.”

Gene glanced back up at Babe. “What’d you name him?”

Babe grinned, pleased now. “Milo. You know, like that old movie? I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid.”

Gene ran a hand over the kitten’s back softly before passing him back to Babe. He  watched, head tilted in consideration as Babe cradled the kitten close. “You never mentioned... ya know...  wantin ’ a pet.”

Babe shrugged, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “Never realized it was  somethin ’ I could have now. Never could, before.”

Gene’s expression softened further and he came forward to kiss Babe gently. “If it makes you happy, Edward, you can have  whateva you want.”

Babe smiled against Gene’s lips. “Thanks, Gene.”


	11. Appreciation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that the rating's gone up ;)

Babe hung his keys up as he came in the door and immediately Milo was at his feet, mewing and twisting around his ankles. Babe grinned down at his kitten and reached for him, lifting him to scratch at his head. “Hey Milo. Were you a good boy while I was at work?” The kitten began to purr. Babe’s grin widened. “Where’s Gene?” He asked, like the cat might actually tell him. He  perked his ears and caught the sound of the shower squeaking off down the hall toward the bedroom. “Guess that answers my question.” He went to the kitchen, opened the ancient fridge, and pulled out some milk for the kitten. He poured it into a little saucer and set it on the floor for him. “There you go, buddy.” Babe sighed softly then made his way quietly back toward the bedroom, drawn by the sounds of soft rustling. 

Babe leaned a shoulder against the door and quietly observed his husband. Gene wore his favorite pair of jeans—dark but faded, slung lazily across his hips. Feet bare. Babe watched as Gene tugged a dark t-shirt from his dresser drawer and stretched his arms through it, began to pull it over his head of dark, wet hair. The muscles in his back and shoulders rippled beautifully, the blue and black tattoos stood out starkly against his pale skin. Babe felt his mouth go dry as a drop of water slid down Gene’s spine. He’d barely tugged the shirt into place before Babe was pushing away from the door, stalking toward the other man. Gene turned to him with a smile which froze, confused, on his face when he noticed the determined set of Babe’s shoulders and the glint in his eye. 

“Edward, what...?” He began, before Babe silenced him with a kiss. Gene gasped against his lips and Babe slipped his fingers under the hem of the t-shirt. 

“This needs to come back off,” Babe murmured, pulling back just long enough to tug the shirt back up Gene’s body, over his lean but strong arms, and over his head. Babe tossed it back onto the dresser and pressed his body against Gene’s, kissing him again as he wrapped his arms around him and began to walk them backwards. 

Gene had stopped trying to ask questions and simply allowed himself to be led; he grasped at Babe’s shoulders and kissed back hungrily. Babe felt like a man possessed—he was single minded and the man in his arms was exactly what he wanted. When Gene’s knees bumped the bed, Babe pushed him softly so he sat down upon it. 

Gene whined, already missing Babe’s lips, and he reached for him again, asking “Edward?” But then Babe pushed closer so Gene had to spread his legs to accommodate him. Babe slid to his knees in front of Gene and the other man's eyes grew even darker—Babe couldn’t tell the pupil from the iris anymore and it pleased him. He leaned forward and pressed another kiss against Gene’s lips, his tongue following to curl against Gene’s. He put his fingers to work at the fastening of Gene’s pants and the other man gasped at the sound of the zipper. 

“Babe,” Gene gasped, pulling away to look down at him. 

“Gene,” Babe answered, before he reached into Gene’s pants and took him in hand. Gene’s eyes fluttered shut, then, and he braced his hands on Babe’s shoulders. Babe smirked before he lowered his head and took Gene into his mouth. 

The bedroom echoed with a chorus of Gene’s moans and gasping breaths, his choked out “Babe, oh God,” and his fingers twisted softly through Babe’s hair, petting him. His thighs trembled. Babe closed his eyes and focused on pleasuring Gene, overcome by fierce pride, love, and possessiveness. This man, this  _ wonderful, powerful, unbelievable  _ man shuddered against Babe, whispered  _ please  _ and  _ yes  _ and  _ more.  _ No one else got to see him like this. No one else knew what this was like. This was Babe’s. This was theirs. All theirs. 

It didn’t take long—it never did, when Babe used his mouth. Gene came with a gasping groan, his fingers tightening in Babe’s hair (which was enough for Babe to follow right after him) before slackening and sliding away. Gene slumped back onto the bed, his chest heaving.

Babe pulled himself from the floor and licked his lips with a smirk before following Gene’s example and collapsing next to him. 

A moment later, Gene turned his head toward him and cracked an eye. “What was that for?” He asked, voice still husky from all the noises Babe had pulled from his throat. 

“Hey,” Babe greeted, chuckling and he leaned forward to brush a soft, chaste kiss against Gene’s lips. “Just wanted to appreciate you.”


	12. Long Distance Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babe heads back to Philly for a visit while Gene stays at home in the bayou. This is how they cope, through phone calls ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for unbearable schmoop ahead. I literally just listened to REM's "The One I Love" on repeat while I wrote this lol.

Day 1

“Edward,” Gene drawled, snatching the phone from the hook half-way through the first ring, already knowing in his gut who it was. “Ya just left an hour ago. You forget somethin’?”

“Nope,” Babe laughed, his echo ringing softly along the staticky line—damn bayou reception. “Just missed  ya already.”

Gene’s smile softened and he closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the wall. “Yeah, I miss  ya too. Drive safe, alright? Call me tonight.” It was  gonna be a long two weeks.

Day 1, Later

“Gene?” Babe asked, switching on the  bluetooth reception now that he was closer to the city. “What is it?  Somethin ’ happen?”

“No,” Gene drawled, his accent thick and sexy over the line, warm, echoing through the car’s speakers. “Just my turn  ta miss you, is all. I love you.”

Babe practically melted at the steering wheel and wondered if it was too late to turn back: he was sure the Philly Pack would be just fine without their medicine for a month or two. Or three. Or four. But  leavin ’ Gene? Babe had never thought it’d be this hard. He hadn’t been away from his lover for so long now that it felt...unnatural to do it, like he was  leavin ’ a part of himself back in the bayou, too. “Love you too, Gene.” Babe murmured. “I’ll call you tonight, alright?”

“Yeah. Alright.”

Day 1, Even Later

“You make it to the motel alright?” Gene asked, the phone sandwiched between his ear and shoulder as he scrambled eggs on the stove. Milo mewed at his feet, begging for food. 

“Yeah,” Babe sighed.

“How was the drive?”

“Alright but boring. Lonely.” A huff. “Motels never used to bother me before—they were always like an adventure,  ya know?”

“Yeah?” Gene asked. “And now?”

Another sigh. “Now I just keep  thinkin ’ about how it doesn’t smell like home.”

Gene’s heart squeezed. “You’ll  be up with Bill and your ma and the Pack soon enough. And it’s only 2 weeks, then you’ll be home.”

“Two weeks never looked so long before.”

Gene stared down into the frying pan and said “I know what ya mean.”

Day 2

“Long day?” Gene asked, back propped against the wall. He’d need to move the chair back over here again, like he had before he and Edward had gotten together. Back when a phone call from the other man was the height of his day. 

“Yeah. Made it to Virginia, though. Tomorrow night I’ll be back at my ma’s. She’s making meatloaf.”

Gene smirked. “Tell her I said hello when you get there.”

Babe snorted. “You can tell her yourself. You know she’ll probably steal the phone, anyway.”

The smirk settled into a satisfied smile that reached his eyes. “Alright, I’ll tell her, then.” They were quiet for a moment, just listening to the other  breathe , and then Gene asked “You get  somethin ’ to eat, yet?”

“Yeah, grabbed a burger from a drive thru up the road before I turned in. Nothin’ fancy. What’d you have?”

Gene shrugged, looking at the plate in his sink that needed a quick wash. “Ham sandwich. Was a busy day.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” On the line, Gene could hear the squeaking of bed springs and he could imagine Babe relaxing back on the bed, eyes closed and the phone on speaker. 

And  so Gene started with the morning and began to tell Babe everything about his day. Before he was done, a snore came across the line. Gene listened for a long time before he could bring himself to end the call.

Day 3

“You make it to your ma’s alright?” Gene asked, twisting the phone cord around his fingers. He reclined back in the chair which he’d moved back next to the phone. 

“Yep. We just finished dinner. Was good.” Even though Gene missed him a lot, something untwisted in his belly to know that Edward was back among people who loved him, instead of alone on the road. 

In the background, Gene heard a higher-pitched, muffled voice call “ _ Is that Gene? Let me say hi.”  _ Edward didn’t even have time to explain what was happening before suddenly his ma had taken over the call and Gene felt a grin spread across his lips. “Gene! How are you?”

“Cindy,” he drawled warmly, “I’m good. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Busy as always, you know.”

“Edward make it up there okay?”

Her voice softened and he wasn’t sure if was because of him or her son, but she said “Yeah, Gene, he made it okay. I just fed him and I think he’s headed to the bar soon to visit with the boys.”

Gene nodded. “I figured.” He twisted the phone cord tighter in his fingers. Cleared his throat. “It’s ridiculous, I know...but... I worry about him,  bein ’ so far away from me. I know you’ll look out for him, though.”

If it were possible, her voice softened even more as she said, “Yeah, sweetheart, of course I will.”

And she was his mother for God’s sake, of course she would. Still, hearing the words untangled a bit of the nerves tied up in Gene’s belly. “Right. Of course.”

“Here, I’ll let you talk to him again. Have a good night, Gene.”

“You too.”

A moment later, Babe was back, chuckling across the line. “Told you she’d just snatch the phone away from me.”

Gene smiled. “You did.”

Day 4

“Hey, Doc,” Bill greeted across the line. “ Babe’s on bar tonight—said he missed this place or  somethin ’.” Bill guffawed. “How are things in the swamp?”

Gene snorted. “ Oh you know...swampy.”

“You’re a funny guy, Doc, you know that?” A snort, and then “Hey, some of the guys  wanna say hi, alright? I’m  gonna pass you around.”

“Doc!” Luz crowed, and Gene had to pull the phone away from his ear because he was so loud. “We’ve been missing you up Philly way. When you coming back?”

Gene thought of the last time he’d been back to Philly with a shudder—he'd rather not go back any time soon. He shrugged, even though he knew Luz couldn’t see it. “Oh, you know... whenever I get a break here.”

Luz snorted. “So not in the likely future, huh? You better find some time, Doc, or you might end up with some wolves  knockin ’ on your door.”

Gene rolled his eyes but his lips tugged up into a smile. “Noted.”

“Hey, Mal!” Luz shouted, right into the phone. “C’mere! Talk to you later, Doc!”

Before Gene could respond, Malarkey was on the line, voice brighter than the last few times they’d talked. “Hi, Doc. How’ve you been? We’ve missed you around here.”

A warmth sparked in Gene’s chest at the words and he found himself blushing. It was easy to brush off Bill and Luz, because they were loud, boisterous, and loved to hear themselves talk...but Malarkey was different, and when he said that Gene had been missed, it was harder to shrug off. “Oh, you know, been busy. How’s it been at the bar? I heard you all rebuilt the place. How’s it look?”

Gene could practically  _ see  _ Malarkey blush and grasp at the back of his neck. “It looks great, actually. Better than before, even. Toye keeps me busy, but uh...Lip works in the kitchen now too, did you know? He’s not a bad cook—I've been  showin ’ him the ropes.”

Suddenly worried about he and Babe being in the same place again after...everything, Gene cleared his throat and asked “He there tonight?”

“Nah, it’s his night off.”

“Hmmm.” Gene hummed noncommittally, like he didn’t really care, though he very obviously did. He wondered if Malarkey noticed. Anyway, he knew Bill would keep an eye on Edward while he was there, knew the werewolf was aware of Edward’s lingering trauma. “Who else is there?”

“Joe, Julian,” Malarkey snorted, “who’s been harassing Babe all night, of course, and Muck and Penkala. Here, some of the others  wanna say hi.” 

And  so the phone was passed around for the next half hour, with each of the wolves saying their hellos and their thank  yous and asking Gene about life in the bayou, like they didn’t already know what he got up to. Still, even though the line of questioning was repetitive, he couldn’t help the curl of pleasure that suffused him at the knowledge that he had friends, he had family, in Philadelphia. They might be a motley group of rowdy werewolves, but the Pack was part of Gene’s extended family now, and they cared about him and Edward, and he found himself just being grateful for it. 

Eventually, the phone was passed to Edward while he took his break. He came on the line with a tired but pleased sigh, and Gene could just imagine him: cheeks flushed from the heat of the bar and the exertion of serving all night, hair a bit mussed and damp with sweat, t-shirt stretched across broad shoulders. “Havin’ a good night?” Gene asked.

“Yeah,” Babe panted as he withdrew to another room. “Yeah, it’s good. Everyone was  real happy to see me. Kept asking about you too, but I guess by now you’ve figured out that they missed you.”

“I gathered,” Gene drawled with an exasperated smirk. “Glad you’re havin’ fun.” 

“Yeah, me too. Stella’s isn’t bad, but it’s just not Toye’s,  ya know? I missed the boys. And the energy. And I’ll never admit it to his face, but I even sort of missed Julian too.”

Gene snorted. “Your secret’s safe with me, Edward.”

“Thanks.” He could hear the grin. “In fact, there’s only one thing that’s missing that’d make it a perfect night. Three guesses what it is?”

Gene grinned down at the kitchen tile. “Mosquitos?”

A snort. “No.”

“Uh...the heat?”

“ _ Gene,”  _ Babe whined, “come on.”

Gene chuckled. “Tell me then, Edward.”

His voice grew warmer, huskier, and it sent a shiver down Gene’s spine. “You know it’s you, Gene. It always is.”

His heart thumped in his chest and Gene sucked in a breath. He’d never get tired of hearing it.

Day 5

“Is life hard as a single parent?” Edward asked, and Gene could practically  _ feel  _ the smirk across the line.

He grinned back, even though Edward couldn’t see him: sat on the floor with his legs sprawled out in front of him, back against the wall and phone cord pulled taut, while Milo danced between his legs, swiping at Gene’s hand and then dodging in to gnaw at his fingers. “It’s  exhaustin ’,” Gene answered. “Up all night with the feedings and diapers. Never  getta rest.”

Edward snorted. “Oh my God.” He giggled on the end of the line and Gene’s heart grew warm at the sound. “Really, though, how are you and Milo doing?”

“We’re fine. He’s  bitin ’ my fingers right now.”

“What a rascal!”

“Well, he  _ is  _ your son.”

“Oh, please. Of the two of us, we both know he gets the biting from you.”

Gene felt his cheeks heat and a corresponding warmth fill his belly. An assortment of images played through his head and he had to clear his throat before he could choke out “Watch it, Edward, there are children present.”

A cackle came across the line. 

Day 6

“Remember when we used to do this? Before?”

Gene snorted and shook his head, cheeks coloring as he balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder while he stirred his dinner. “Wasn’t that long ago, Edward.”

“Sometimes it feels like a lifetime ago. Sometimes like yesterday.” The wistfulness in his husband’s voice pulled at Gene’s heart and he missed him more than ever.

“Those calls,” Gene started, clearing his throat and starting again, “they used to be the best thing ‘bout my day.”

“Really?” And Edward sounded so surprised but pleased across the line that Gene felt brave enough to continue.

“Yeah. After I met you that first time...I was ‘ fraid I’d never see you again. But then...you called, and suddenly I wasn’t alone anymore.” The blush crawled up his neck and tinged his face and ears. 

“I didn’t know if you’d  _ want  _ to hear from me again, after all that.”

“Thought it was too good to be true. But then you just...kept  callin ’.” Gene chuckled softly. “I looked forward to it every evening.”

“I sometimes worried that I was  botherin ’ you, and that you’d eventually just tell me to get lost.”

“Not likely. I was already real fond of you. And then that night came, when you didn’t call....”

“Right. The bar fight.”

“Yeah. First time I spoke to your ma.” Gene smiled, remembering that short conversation. He’d been too worried then to really appreciate talking to Edward’s mother. “When I learned you’d been hurt, it drove me near crazy that I hadn’t been there to help you. To stop it.”

Edward huffed a soft laugh over the line. “Probably best for everyone at the bar that you weren’t.”

Gene couldn’t help his chuckle in agreement. “Probably so. I almost blew the lightbulb when I heard, I was so angry and worried.”

“Well...I was okay. You made sure of that, even from all the way in Louisiana.” Edward’s voice grew soft again. “And you didn’t stay away for long. You did come, when I needed you.”

Gene swallowed thickly, remembering the flight and the fear that he wouldn’t make it to Philadelphia in time to handle the witch Sobel. “Couldn’t have kept me away, then.”

“I know. I already loved you then, you know?”

“Yeah,” Gene breathed, his dinner forgotten. “Yeah, I already loved you, too.”

Day 7

“ _ That’s it, damnit!”  _ Babe growled, “ _ We’re getting you a cell phone! With a camera!” _

Gene was frustratingly relaxed on the other end of the line and Babe could practically imagine his shrug. “Wouldn’t work.”

“Remind me again why we live in a swamp with no cell reception?”

“Because it’s my ancestral home?” Gene asked, voice dry.

Babe scoffed. “We need to get one of those  wifi booster things. You know what I’m  talkin ’ about?” The line was suspiciously quiet and he sighed. “ Of course you don’t.” He laughed. “We’ll have to see if there’s any decent service down there.”

“Never needed it before.”

“Yeah, well, that was before we were separated by a million miles! I miss your face. And I want pictures of Milo.”

Gene made a strange sound in his throat, almost a whine, and said “If I had one, you could send me pictures of yourself too, huh? And the Pack? And your ma?”

“Yeah,” Babe breathed, glad that Gene was finally getting with the program. “Yeah. I could send you pictures throughout the day of whatever I’m  doin ’, and you could too. Whenever I’m away.”

“Alright,” Gene sound, voice resolute. “Alright. We’ll figure  somethin ’ out.”

Babe smiled, momentarily soothed. “Alright.”

Day 8

“What are you up to?” Babe asked from where he lay on his bed, his phone propped on his belly.

A huff echoed in the bedroom and Babe shivered. He loved putting Gene on speaker. “Just got done  workin ’ on the truck. It was gettin' fussy again.”

“Oh yeah?” Babe asked innocently, his fingers trailing patterns across his t-shirt clad belly. “Bet you got all hot and sweaty, huh?”

Gene’s voice was a bit distracted when he said “I suppose. What are you doin’?”

“Me?” Babe asked, eyes widening innocently. “Just  layin ’ here in my bed,  thinkin ’ about you.”

The line was suddenly quiet, heavily so. He could hear  Gene swallow thickly across the line.  _ Finally got his attention. “ _ Yeah?” Gene asked, voice grown soft as a purr, “and are you alone right now?”

_ Ah, definitely getting with the program. “ _ Yep. No one in the house but me.”

“Shame for you to be all alone.”

“Well, I’m not, really.” Babe smirked. “You’re here with me. Or at least, if I close my eyes, I can imagine you are.” Babe sighed. “Remember when you were here, Gene? Remember being in my bed?”

“Yeah,” Gene murmured, “I  rememba ’ that.”

“Remember what happened after you woke up? Remember how you kissed me? How you pressed me up against my bedroom door?”

“Yeah.” Babe heard a light thump and then a groan, and he could imagine Gene’s head  thunking back against the wall, his eyes closed, throat working as he swallowed thickly.

“God, the first time I put my hands on you...when I pulled your shirt off and unbuttoned your pants....”

“Babe,” Gene whined, and the sound made Babe shiver. 

“Are you in the kitchen right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Imagine I’m there with  ya , Gene. My hands...skimming over your belly. Unzipping....”

“Wanna touch you so bad.”

“You are, Gene. I can feel your hands on me right now. Your fingers tracing over my belly, my hips the way you love. And... uhhh ...” Babe gasped as he popped the button on his jeans and slid his hand inside. “ Strokin ’ me.”

“Fuck,” Gene groaned.

“And that’s my hand on you, Gene. Can you feel it?”

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, breath caught on a pant. 

“You feel so good, Gene. So good. Mmmm...yeah, just like that.”

“Babe,”

“Just...like...that, Gene. Fuck, yeah.”

After that, Gene’s words abandoned him and Babe’s bedroom was simply filled with the delicious, sensual echoes of Gene’s heavy breathing, his gasps, and Babe’s own joining him. 

It didn’t take long before Babe came and from the sounds on the other end of the line, it didn’t take long for Gene, either.

For a while, it was just heavy breathing still as they both came down from their orgasms and then Gene moaned and huffed “I want you home. Now.”

“Soon,” Babe soothed, chuckling.

“Not soon enough.”

“No,” Babe agreed, “not soon enough. I miss you, Gene.”

A huff. “I gathered. Miss you too.”

Day 9

Babe was helping his ma with the dishes when he received a text with a photo attachment from a number he didn’t recognize. Immediately wary, he ignored it until they’d finished and he’d wiped the soap suds from his hands. Retreating to the kitchen table, Babe sank into one of the sturdy chairs and clicked on the message, expecting anything from demon threats to random dick pics. What he got was more surprising but better by far.

It was a picture of Gene laying on the couch with one hand behind his head and the other obviously taking the slightly-crooked picture. Milo lay sleeping on his chest. Gene’s eyes were squinted like he was concentrating too hard but his lips were still quirked in a smile. The air whooshed out of Babe as he was hit with a massive wave of longing.  _ God,  _ he missed Gene. It’d only been a little over a week but it was already so hard being away. But this...this was good. Excellent. Babe stared at the photo for a few more minutes before he saved it to his album and tapped open the text option. 

_ Tell me this means what I think it means. _

A minute later, Babe received:  _ Don’t ask how I did it, but I got cell service. Happy? _

Babe grinned:  _ So happy. _

_ Send me one of yourself.  _

Still grinning, Babe raised the phone to take a selfie. He rapidly sent it back and then saved the number in his phone as simply “Gene.” He tapped his fingers impatiently on the table and then finally gave in and dialed the number. “Edward,” Gene drawled, voice laced with satisfaction. His voice was surprisingly clear over the line; Babe had been expecting at least some static.

“I can’t believe you actually did it!” Babe gushed. “That’s awesome!”

“It took some finagling, but finally got  it.”

Babe quirked a smile. “So is this magic cell phone just for you or will mine have reception down there, too?”

Gene laughed and the sound was music to Babe’s ears. “Yours should work, too. And anyway, it’s not magic.” He cleared his throat. “Mostly, at least. I drove to the city this morning and did some  shoppin ’ around. This sales girl was  real helpful and she recommended some things.”

Babe snorted. “I bet she was.”

Gene chuckled. “Wasn’t like that, Edward. She was just kind.” Babe could hear Gene fiddling with something in the background and he wondered what his husband was doing now that he had greater range of motion. “Anyway, just took a little... boostin ’ and it worked alright. I’m not staticky, am I?”

“No,” Babe sighed wistfully, “you sound good. I miss you.”

He could hear Gene’s smile. “Miss you too. Milo misses you, too. He keeps  lookin ’ for you throughout the house.”

“Aww, Milo!” Babe cooed. “Give him a kiss for me.” 

“Alright.”

“I loved the picture. Were you guys takin’ a nap?”

“ _ He _ was. I’m just his  cushion.”

Babe chuckled. “Lucky kitten.”

“You’ll be home, soon, and then you can have as many sleepy cuddles as you want.”

“Promise?” Babe asked, perking up.

“Promise.”

Day 10

“Gene?” No answer. “Gene?” Nothing. Babe pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at it to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Nope. Gene had called him. They were still connected. “Gene?” When the man still didn’t respond, Babe had to tamp down real hard on the immediate panic that tried to lurch up his throat. It was okay. It was okay. It didn’t mean anything, didn’t mean  _ hurt, sick, can’t reach the phone, can’t speak, demons, monsters, some raging lunatic with a gun. “ _ Fuck,” Babe growled, before ending the call and recalling immediately. The phone rang once, twice, and then suddenly it was picked up.

“Edward?” Gene asked, sounding entirely calm. 

“Gene, oh my God, are you okay? Why weren’t you saying anything?”

The line was silent for a second, and then “Uh...when? You called just now.”

“Yeah, because you called me first and didn’t answer! God, Gene, I was so worried. What happened?”

Again, the line went silent except for the scrape of background noise. Sounded like Gene was cooking. Or moving something around in the kitchen. Maybe doing dishes. “Uh...think I called by accident. Phone was in my pocket.”

Babe pulled the phone away and gaped at it for a minute before he closed his eyes and sighed, trapped between immense relief and hilarity. “You pocket dialed me.”

And yeah, okay, Gene did sound a bit  embarrassed when he admitted “Guess so.”

“Well, now I know that you’re not  _ dying,  _ it is pretty funny. Bill won’t believe it when I tell him.”

“Don’t you dare,” Gene growled.

Babe cackled. It was definitely happening.

Day 10, Later

“Were you really worried about me, earlier?” Gene asked, voice contemplative.

“Well, yeah.” Babe huffed. “You called me and then didn’t answer. I just...imagined all sorts of terrible things.”

Gene was quiet for a moment and then he murmured “You don’t have to worry about me like that, Edward. You know I can take care of myself.”

“ Of course I know that.” Babe frowned. “Won’t stop me from  worryin ’ about  ya , though.”

“I don’t like it when you worry.”

Babe snorted. “Look who’s talking.”

He could imagine Gene cracking a wry grin. “Got me there.”

Day 11

Gene lay on the couch with Milo perched on his chest again, curled into a fluffy little ball. Gene petted him softly while he murmured to himself about all the things he had to accomplish in the morning: doing a walk of the ward lines, brewing up another round of flu medication, and finally doing some cooking. He was just beginning to drowse, however, when his stomach suddenly turned in knots and he reached for the cell phone on the coffee table a second before it started to ring. “Edward,” he started, sitting up. Milo grumbled at the jostling and leapt onto the floor. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t panic,” Edward said, though his own voice was high pitched as he said it, and Gene wondered who the order was for—himself or Gene.

Of course, the words  _ don’t panic  _ had the opposite effect—unease bubbled up in Gene’s belly, spread through his veins to tingle in his fingers and toes. Gene wanted to demand answers, wanted to crawl through the phone and get them, but he forced his breathing to slow and he forcibly relaxed his grip on the phone. If Edward himself was on the edge of panic, then he needed Gene to be calm for him now, so he would be. “Alright,” Gene drawled with forced ease. “Not panicking. What’s wrong?”

“I just....” Edward stopped, breathed, and Gene didn’t miss the hitch. “I just needed to talk to you.”

“Okay. I’m here.  Ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Another calming breath—he didn’t want to short out his new cell phone with his worry. “Are you physically okay?”

“I...yeah.” A gulp. “Yeah, I’m not hurt.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I ran into Lipton.”

Ice rushed through Gene’s veins at the words and Milo whined from the edge of the couch, obviously sensing Gene’s fear. Worry clogged his throat, but he forced himself to push through it. “Are you okay?”

A strangled laugh. “I. ..I will be, I think. I just...needed to talk to you.”

Gene waited patiently, waited for the words that he hoped would come, and eventually his patience paid off.

“I stopped by Toye’s to see the guys this evening and I forgot to ask if Lipton was working. Hell, I’m still not used to the idea of him  bein ’ here. But he was on shift in the kitchen. I almost  _ literally  _ ran into him headed into the kitchen to hang with Malarkey. He didn’t realize it was me at first, and he just reached out to steady me, but when he touched me and I realized it was him, I just...I panicked. I panicked and I think he did, too. It took a lot to calm myself down.”

“Where are you now?”

“In the office at the bar. Bill saw what happened and brought me here to calm down.”

“Good thing he was there. And Lipton?”

“On break, I think. I. ..I didn’t ask. I just...God, Gene, I didn’t think it’d be that bad. I mean, we’ve seen each other since.... But it was like it was all fresh again. I felt myself falling down that dark tunnel again, felt the walls closing in, and it was like I was  _ back there again.”  _ Edward shuddered.

“Well, you  ain’t .” Gene insisted. “You’re not there anymore and you won’t ever be again. You’re safe at the bar with your friends and I’m right here. And in a couple days, you’re  gonna be back home with me.”

“Yeah.”

“Babe,” Gene soothed, “you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“I just...I just want to get over it, Gene, but I don’t think I ever will.”

“Hey,” Gene continued to soothe, “it  ain’t your fault. You went through a lot and it’s okay if you’re not over it. Don’t beat yourself up over it, alright? These things happen.”

“I just...I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“You’re  doin ’ better than you were before, Babe. You might not see it, but I do. You’re strong and brave and good. And you’re okay. And it’s okay if you’re  _ not _ okay.”

Edward released a deep sigh and Gene could imagine his shoulders  slump, his whole body deflate. “Thanks, Gene.”

“’Course.”

“Tell me about your day. I just...I need normal.”

“Alright,” Gene agreed, and he began to tell his husband all about the plants he'd gathered and about how Milo almost tumbled off the couch while he was napping, and how Stella had dropped off a burger and fries for him this evening just so she could ask about the trip and when Babe would be back. 

Eventually, Edward calmed. “Love you, Gene.”

“Love  ya , too. Three days.”

“Yeah,” Edward agreed. “Three days.”

Day 12

“Gene, dear, it’s Cindy. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Gene grinned into the phone—he loved Edward’s mother and it always warmed his heart when she went out of her way to talk to him. “Hello Cindy. No, you didn’t wake me. I’ve been up for a couple hours already.”

“I figured. Listen, I wanted to send Babe back with some baked goods so you boys will have a treat. I’ve already got some banana bread going because Babe loves it, but I wanted to know which kind of cookies you’d prefer: chocolate chip, oatmeal, or peanut butter?”

Gene’s grin grew even wider and he said “Definitely peanut butter, they’re my favorite. Thank you.”

“Of course. Now, how are you? Babe said you finally got a cell phone. He’s been over the moon about it.”

“I’ve been good. You know, the usual. A healer’s job is never done. But yeah, I got a cell phone. Still figuring out how to use it, though. Edward keeps trying to tell me about apps and such. Figure he’s lucky I got the camera to work.”

Cindy laughed softly on the other line. “And how’s my grand kitten? Babe’s told me all about Milo.”

“Oh, he’s good. Spoiled already, between the two of us.”

“That’s what happens when you have an only child,” she chuckled. Then, “I hope you can come visit sometime soon, Gene. I know it’s not...easy for you to leave, but it’s important to remember to take care of yourself, too. For you and for my boy.”

Gene sighed. “I remember. And uh...workin’ on it.”

“Well, good. And I hope you enjoy the cookies. Have a good day, dear.”

“Thanks, Cindy. You, too.”

Day 12, Slightly Later

“Hey Gene, how come I never knew you liked peanut butter cookies?”

Gene frowned down at the cell which he’d put on speaker. Edward’s slightly nasally voice echoed through the kitchen. He sounded indignant. “Uh...we never got ‘round to that particular conversation?”

Edward huffed. “I came downstairs for breakfast this morning and my ma was all ‘Oh, Babe, I baked some of Gene’s favorite peanut butter cookies for you to take back with you.’ And I was like ‘Huh? What? Peanut butter?’ I gotta tell you, Gene, I think she really enjoyed knowin’ something about you that I didn’t.”

Gene couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Leave your mother alone, Edward. She just wanted to do  somethin ’ nice.” Edward grumbled something incomprehensible but Gene just continued to grin. “What time you leavin’ in the morning?”

“Ugh, probably about 8. Want to make a good day of it. I’ve had a good trip but I’m ready to be home again.”

It would never fail to warm Gene’s heart to hear Edward call Gene’s house his home. “Well, you’ll be here soon enough. I want you to drive careful, now. You know how those highways can be.”

“Yes, sir.” Edward promised and Gene could imagine the cheeky smirk. “I’ll call you again tonight before I go to sleep.”

“Alright. Have a good day, Edward.”

“Yeah, you too, Gene.”

Day 13

“This goddamn traffic is murder, Gene. Murder. Why in the world do so many assholes want to get out of Philly this morning?”

Gene barely prevented himself from pointing out that Edward himself was one of those seeking to leave the city. Instead, he decided to soothe. “You know the traffic is worse near the city. It’ll be better soon. Why don’t you put on some music and relax?”

Edward huffed. “Nah, I’ll just talk to you for a bit. Your voice is better anyway.”

Gene blushed and wondered how Edward Heffron, tall, gangly redhead and now his husband, could still make him blush with a few simple words. He cleared his throat. “You say goodbye to the Pack last night?”

“Yeah. It was a good night. Though I’m  tellin ’  ya , Gene, you’re  gonna have to come with me one of these times or I think the guys are  gonna stage an invasion of the bayou. Muck and Penkala were already drawing up plans.”

Gene couldn’t help laughing, thinking of an army of Philly werewolves braving the swamps of Louisiana just to see him. Never mind that they’d never make it through the wards without him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Day 14

“You turned in for the night, Edward?”

“No.”

“No?” Gene looked at the clock. It was nearly 7:00 and Edward usually ate dinner and found a motel by 6:00. “What’s wrong?”

“ Nothin ’, I just decided that I didn’t want to sleep in another motel. I’m  drivin ’ through. Be there before the morning.”

“You sure? Don’t want you  fallin ’ asleep behind the wheel.”

“I’m sure. I’ll call again if I start to get sleepy.”

“Or you could just pull over for a nap.”

“Won’t need it,” Edward replied stubbornly. “Wanna get home.”

“Alright, then. Drive safe. I’ll be here.”

“I know.”

Day 15, Just Barely

The headlights flashing through the living room and kitchen windows woke Gene from his light doze on the couch at just after 2:00 in the morning. His heart kicked in his chest, excited just like he’d been that first time that Edward had come back to him. They hadn’t been apart for this long since before they’d gotten together. Brushing the sleep from his eyes, Gene shoved his feet into his shoes and ventured out into the yard where Edward was currently pulling his luggage and a load of baked goods from the car. “Hey,” Gene said, loping up to him.

Edward turned and his face split into a grin. He dropped his bag in the dirt and reached for Gene, pulling him close. “Hey,” he breathed before he kissed him sweetly. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Gene grabbed the bag from the ground and hitched it over his shoulder then waited for Edward to grab the food. “Come on, let’s get inside. We can put this away in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Edward sighed. “I’m exhausted. Missed our bed. It was weird, sleeping alone.”

“Well,” Gene said, tugging him into the house, “now you won’t have to.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are love, so please let me know what you thought! Also, feel free to come say hi on tumblr. I'm @realhunterswearplaid.


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